


The Affair

by Snapes_Godess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Child Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 16:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 50,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18944401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapes_Godess/pseuds/Snapes_Godess
Summary: Grieving for the loss of their child, Hermione and Ronald are living separate lives.  Trying to fill the void, Hermione takes on a freelance job organizing a personal library.  She is surprised to find that the owner of the library is none other than Lucius Malfoy.  The two form an unlikely friendship, leaning on each other in their time of need.  Their friendship grows and though they know its wrong they just can't fight what is happening between them.





	1. Life Part I

**Author's Note:**

> _Hello to you all! Welcome to one of my older stories that was previously posted on AFF and the original GE. I hope you are prepared, this will not be an easy fic for some to read and I would recommend having tissues handy as I went through several boxes in the writing of this tale. Before we begin let me address the warnings…._
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> _WARNING #1: As always this fic is obviously non-canon, AU/AR is my specialty as I just don’t get the HG/RW pairing…it never made sense to me that such an intelligent, powerful witch would settle for someone so…Ron. If you don’t like it, don’t read it!!_
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> _WARNING #2: This fic deals with the death of a child. This can be a very emotional subject and difficult for some to read._
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> _WARNING #3: It is very important for me to let you know that this story is based around an adulterous affair. I do not condone adultery nor am I trying to promote it, it is simply how this story unfolded and I was driven to write it. Again, I am not condoning the actions of the characters but they are what they are, I write it how it comes to me and hope you will read anyhow, but I understand if it’s too much for some._
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> _The chapters are fairly short, but they get longer and juicier as we get to the meat of the story. Also, keep in mind that this is taking place long after the war, people are changed, broken and damaged and their characters will reflect that, they may seem OOC to you._
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> _So…sit back, get your tissues and a glass of wine because we are about to begin…_

****

**Chapter One: Life Part I**

__  
**Odd how much it hurts when a friend moves away - and leaves behind only silence. – Pam Brown**  


 

_In a small house near Ottery St. Catchpole, Hermione and Ronald Weasley were sat down to dinner. To anyone looking in it would appear normal, just an ordinary couple having dinner, but the truth of it was they weren’t an ordinary couple. The Weasley’s were living a life of misery._

 

Hermione looked up from her plate at her husband of ten years and wished she could find something to say to him. She couldn’t remember the last time they had engaged in an actual conversation. Their lives had become a series of moments spent together, yet never were they more alone. In the beginning they had been wildly in love, reveling in a life without war and tyranny. In the beginning they had lived the fairytale. 

 

But as with all fairy tales the dark clouds had moved in to shadow their happiness. For five long years they had tried to conceive a child. Month after month they would wait expectantly only to be disappointed. They saw a number of healers, muggle and wizard, but none could offer an explanation for their infertility. Then a miracle occurred and they discovered that they were going to have a child. 

 

For nine months they were once more blissfully happy, basking in the glow of impending parenthood as they prepared for the arrival of their first child. On the day she went into labor they were filled with elation. Finally their dream would come true and they would be a family. Her pregnancy had been perfectly normal and her labor was moving along quickly and easily. In the wee hours of the night Hermione struggled to push their child from her body and just as the clock chimed midnight Oliver Frederick Weasley slid into the world. 

 

Perfectly formed with his round little face and shocking red hair, he was beautiful. But his cries did not fill the room as they expected, nor did he kick or wave his arms angrily at being forced from his mother’s womb. He did not pinken or stir at all. Oliver Weasley never drew a single breath. No reason was ever given for the death of their child. There was no physical abnormality, no accident of birth; it was just one of those things that sometimes happened. 

 

Even a year later Hermione could see his beautiful face, feel the weight of him in her arms as she held him, rocking him back and forth as she cried for the boy she never got to meet. They had held him and each other until the coroner told them it was time to let go. With a kiss to the top of his head Hermione watched as a stranger carried her baby away.

 

Life was never going to be the same after that. Some couples find unity in their grief, but Ron and Hermione pulled apart. Their house was silent and their bed was cold. During the funeral Ron had clung to his mother while Hermione sat alone, numb to everything. She didn’t hear the words spoken at his gravesite; she could only stare at the tiny white casket being lowered into the ground and shiver as though ice water were running through her veins. 

 

She didn’t notice all of the people in her house for the wake, she opened the door and walked straight to her bedroom, stopping only to close and lock the nursery door before crawling into their bed and crying herself to sleep. That door still remained locked, neither of them ever stepping foot into the space they had so lovingly prepared for their child. 

 

Ron never tried to comfort her and in his defense she never tried to comfort him either. They both retreated into themselves, grieving alone for the child they both lost. They danced around one another in silence. Their few conversations were distant and impersonal. Oliver’s name was never mentioned and they never discussed their loss or made plans to try again. Their home became a tomb as silent as the grave in which their son slept. 

 

That silence and solitude had begun to wear on Hermione. Ron had thrown himself into his job, taking on extra missions and volunteering to stand in for other aurors when they needed time off. Hermione had left her job as the ministry librarian when she discovered she was pregnant, fully intending to devote herself to raising Oliver and whatever other children they had. She had nothing to do but sit in the silence and mourn. 

 

She had been curious about an ad posted in the Prophet seeking a librarian to arrange and catalogue an extensive personal library so she posted an owl with her resume. To her great surprise she had received an almost immediate reply that she had been hired, sight unseen, with no interview necessary. What was even more surprising was that her employer was to be Lucius Malfoy. 

 

The ad hadn’t mentioned that little bit of information. Not that it mattered, Malfoy had paid for his crimes and from what little she had heard over the years he had kept his nose clean. Besides, she doubted that they would have much interaction with each other; he wouldn’t wish to sully himself socializing with a mudblood like her. It was a job, a project, something to keep her occupied and get her out of the house and it paid handsomely, it was just what she needed.

 

She posted her acceptance just before dinner and informed Mr. Malfoy that she would arrive in the morning for his expectations and to get an initial impression of the project. Now she just had to tell her husband of her plans.

 

“Ron?” His name almost felt foreign on her tongue it had been so long since she had spoken it. He looked up from his plate, his eyes a bit dazed and his expression confused.

 

“Yeah?” He asked.

 

“I have decided to take on a freelance project, cataloguing and sorting a private library.” She said, noticing how uninterested he looked.

 

“Oh, well if that’s what you want to do.” He said, turning his attention back to his plate.

 

“It’s an extensive collection and the pay is excellent.” She said, trying to interest him to no avail.

 

“That’s great.” He said, pushing his food around with his fork. 

 

“I will be working for Lucius Malfoy.” That got a reaction.

 

“He hired you?” Ron couldn’t believe that Lucius would be willing to hire a muggleborn.

 

“Yes. I am highly qualified you know.” 

 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to work for him?” He asked.

 

“I need this, Ron. I need something to do. It has been a year and I can’t spend the rest of my life in this house where everything reminds me of Oliver.” Her voice broke on his name.

 

Ron laid his fork down and fought back the urge to cry, fought down the anger that always rose when he thought of his son. 

 

“Don’t…don’t say his name.” Ron said quietly as he pushed away from the table and stood. “Do what you have to do, Hermione.” He said, tucking his wand in his pocket and reaching for his cloak.

 

“Where are you going?” She asked as he turned towards the door.

 

“I’m on patrol tonight, don’t wait up.” With that he opened the door and stepped out into the night, leaving Hermione alone in the silence once again.


	2. Life Part II

****

**Chapter Two: Life Part II**

**  
_Only the misfortune of exile can provide the in-depth understanding and the overview into the realities of the world. – Stefan Zweig_  
**

 

_Meanwhile, in a stately manor hidden deep in the wooded hills of Wiltshire Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were also sat down to dinner at opposite ends of a long, formal table. It was typical of any aristocratic, pure-blood couple, only they weren’t typical._

 

Lucius ate his meal in silence. It was what he was used to now. At the other end of the table sat his wife of over thirty years. She was still as beautiful as when he married her, but she no longer looked upon him warmly. She was cold and she loathed him. Dinner’s together were a sacrifice she made to keep up appearances though who for he couldn’t fathom. They were essentially in exile. His actions and connections to the Dark Lord had ostracized them and lost them their place among their peers.

 

Lucius didn’t mind it so much. He rather preferred his solitude. His wealth was secure and while socially he may have been a pariah he was still sought after and accepted in the business world. That was all the socializing he cared to do if truth be known. 

 

Narcissa felt differently of course. She was a social creature and missed the days when they were at the top of the social ladder. She still attended the theatre and various other society functions only it was on the arm of their son. Once a year on the anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat he would accompany her to the celebratory ball personally. It was always an uncomfortable event where people gossiped and stared, there was the expected sneering and snubbing as well.

 

He had single handedly destroyed his family. His son spoke to him only when necessary and his wife had made it clear that he, and his attentions, were completely unwelcome. She would never forgive him. She would always blame him for nearly losing Draco. No matter how he tried to make it up to her forgiveness just wasn’t to be had.

 

She slept in a separate wing of the house from him, inviting him to her bed once a month and he suspected that was just in an attempt to keep him from going elsewhere. Not that their sex life had been anything spectacular before, but it had been intimate and he had loved her. 

 

He wasn’t certain how she spent her days as she never mentioned it to him. She rarely spoke to him other than to tell him to pay the clothier or to ask for pocket money. She didn’t even comment on the weather. Essentially, he no longer existed for his wife; he was but a financier of her lifestyle and nothing more.

 

Draco was another matter altogether. He spoke to his father but never with any warmth. He lived on his own in a flat in London, still unmarried after his contracted marriage to the Greengrass’s youngest daughter fell through. He was quickly proving himself as a brilliant businessman and whilst Lucius was immensely proud of his son he wished the boy would just smile.

 

Lucius himself spent his time locked away in his study tending to estate and personal business. His evenings he spent in the attached library reading quietly before the fire. It was his life now, unexciting though it was. It was thoughts of his extremely unorganized library that had him attempting to engage his wife in conversation.

 

“Narcissa, there will be a contractor in the house over the next several months. A librarian I hired to organize the library.” He said, using an amplification spell so that his words reached her without necessitating shouting.

 

Her piercing blue eyes met his from the other end of the table, her lips curled up as though offended that he dared speak to her. Once upon a time she had sat beside him during meals with nothing but adoring smiles for him. 

 

“And this matters to me, how?” She asked.

 

“I simply thought to inform you that someone would be in the house in case you stumbled across her is all.” He said, feeling the coldness in her voice like a knife in his heart.

 

“Why should I care about some old hag playing with your dusty old books?” Narcissa scoffed, completely uninterested.

 

“Not old at all actually, I have hired Hermione Granger-Weasley. She was the ministry librarian for years and by all her references quite brilliant.” Lucius said, figuring he was likely just speaking to himself.

 

“A mudblood? You hired a mudblood to sort your books? Oh that’s rich.” She sneered and rolled her eyes. “Do you expect that by hiring her it will earn you brownie points?”

 

“Not at all, I simply wanted someone qualified to handle my collection. I am sorry I bothered you with it, Narcissa.” He said quietly.

 

“Well I doubt very much that I shall come in contact with her since I avoid your library and study at all costs.” What she was really saying was that she avoided _him_ at all costs.

 

“Again, I apologize for bothering you with it.” He laid his napkin to the left of his plate and stood. “If you will excuse me, I think I shall retire. Good night, Narcissa.”

 

He waited for her reply but none came. Lucius sighed in resignation and sought the quiet comfort of his study, a brandy and a cigar his evening’s companions.


	3. The First Day

****

**Chapter Three: The First Day**

_  
**There is no such thing as a long piece of work, except one that you dare not start. - Charles Baudelaire**  
_

 

 

Hermione stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and her brow furrowed a bit. She was pale with dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked older than her 28 years. Makeup helped, but not much so she didn’t bother layering it on, it would only serve to make her look worse. She pulled her long curls back from her face and into a low ponytail. Her simple black trousers and lavender blouse were casual yet professional and she hoped that she would make an adequate impression on her new employer.

 

As she left the bathroom she questioned herself once more as to if she were really ready to begin something new; If she was ready to step back into the real world where normal people functioned. It was now or never. She had to start somewhere and it wasn’t as though she were working in a public library. She would be working in the privacy of the Malfoy home. 

 

“You can do this.” She told herself as she smoothed a wrinkle in the bedspread as she walked by. “You have to return to real life at some point, Hermione.” 

 

She walked into the living room and stopped suddenly. Ron was asleep, face down on the sofa with an empty bottle of firewhiskey lying on the floor in front of him. It was a familiar sight but it never got any easier to see. She picked up the bottle and carried it to the kitchen to toss away. As quietly as she could she made herself some toast and tea, and ate it over the sink. She wished she knew what to do to fix what was broken between them, but nothing ever came to mind.

 

Maybe it just took time. More than just a year to process such a tremendous loss. She sighed and placed her dishes into the sink. She collected her bag and stared down at the man sleeping on the sofa. Once upon a time she would have been compelled to bend down and kiss his brow, but she turned and let herself out onto the porch instead and apparated to Malfoy Manor. 

 

It had been over a decade since she had stepped foot on the Malfoy property. She waited for the sense of dread to come over her, for the memories to flood back but it never came. Instead she was moved by the beauty of the stately home and sprawling grounds surrounded by lush forest. Flowers in every shade imaginable lined the footpaths and flowerbeds and overflowed the pots scattered about the porch. How could such beauty have housed such evil?

 

An elderly house-elf greeted her at the door and led her through the quiet manor to Lucius’s study. She admired the dark wood floors and paneled walls, the antiques and priceless works of art that filled the home making it seem more like a museum than a living space. She couldn’t help but think that it must have been tough for a “little Draco” to play in such a house. She imagined he was a little hellion given his behavior in school. 

 

The elf stepped through a large wooden door and announced her then stepped aside indicating that she was welcome to enter. It was odd at first, being face to face with Lucius again after so many years. He looked no different than he had before with the exception of a few lines around his eyes and the absence of his smug expressions. In truth his face was a bit softer and his eyes seemed somewhat haunted as he came around his desk to greet her.

 

“Mrs. Weasley, welcome to Malfoy Manor.” He said extending his hand. She took it hesitantly and was taken by surprise when he bent over it cordially. 

 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” She said, withdrawing her hand and eyeing him cautiously. She didn’t mean to be rude, but polite and friendly Lucius wasn’t what she had expected. 

 

“Please call me Lucius.” He laid his hand on the back of a leather chair in front of his desk. “Won’t you sit?” She nodded and sat down as he moved back around his desk and resumed his seat. “Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee or perhaps one of those fizzy drinks Draco is so fond of?”

 

“Coffee would be nice.” She set her purse on the floor and folded her hands in her lap as she waited for him to order coffee from the elves. 

 

“I am very glad that you accepted my offer, Mrs. Weasley, I was shocked to receive your resume and letter. You immediately became the only applicant of any interest.” An elf popped into the room carrying a silver tray and coffee pot that he sat on the end of Lucius’s desk and then was away once more.

 

“Hermione please, and that is very flattering, Sir, thank you.” Lucius poured her a cup of coffee and then pushed a small salver containing the sugar bowl and a small pitcher of cream towards her. 

 

“You are the most highly qualified applicant; I was very grateful as my library contains several books of a…volatile…nature and must be handled delicately. I know of your love of the written word and am confident in your ability to carry out this project with the necessary attention it requires. “He fixed himself a cup of coffee and leaned back in his chair. “I am curious as to why you accepted the position once you discovered it was me you would be working for. We don’t have a pleasant history nor do I have a very good reputation among society.”

 

Hermione sipped her coffee, thankful for the warmth of the brew as it slid down her throat and settled into her stomach, warming her, relaxing her. He had asked the question she had asked herself several times since making the decision to take the job. 

 

“The past is best forgotten Mr…Lucius. I choose not to hold on to old grudges. As for the job, it was time that I begin to settle back into life, this seemed an easy way for me to gradually move back into a professional life.” She said quietly.

 

“I heard about your loss, Hermione. I am very sorry.” He offered his condolences. She smiled tightly and gave him a soft nod to indicate her acceptance. She recalled the beautiful arrangement of white lilies that arrived at the church from the Malfoy family and wondered if he had sent them.

 

“Well, I suppose you wish to know what it is I expect of you.” He steered away from talk of her child and back to something that would not cause that veil of pain to dim her eyes. He could not imagine what she had gone through and he had no wish to remind her of her pain. He had caused so much misery in his life, had put that despairing look on so many faces, he had no desire to see it ever again.

 

“That would probably be a good start.” She took a deep breath and settled her nerves, eager to get her mind wrapped around something that would keep her from dwelling on her own heartache. 

 

“Well, recently it has come to my attention that my library is in a rather poor state. There is no rhyme or reason to the placement of books and the current shelving seems…inadequate. It has become difficult to use and inefficient.” He explained. “What I want is for you to fix that. Come up with a better shelving scheme, one that will not take away from the historic integrity of my home of course. Catalogue and arrange the books in a way that is easy and efficient for use as well as aesthetically pleasing.” 

 

She didn’t look even the slightest bit daunted by the job. Of course she hadn’t yet seen the sorry state of his library. She actually looked excited by the prospect of a challenge. 

 

“That sounds like something I would very much enjoy.” She was beginning to feel the tingle of excitement travel up her spine. She was eager to see the library and get her hands on the books. 

 

“I expect you to be here working on the project at least three days a week from nine until four. Lunch will be provided for you of course. I take my lunch in here, but you are welcome to use the dining room if you like as no one else will be using it, or you may have a tray brought to you if you prefer. The house-elves are at your command for anything you may need. Any purchases needed for the library should be brought to my attention and I will see to it that you have what you need. You will be paid half of the agreed sum now and half upon completion of the project. Are those terms agreeable to you?” He asked.

 

“They are.” Magic swirled between them and sealed their agreement. 

 

“Then allow me to show you the library.” He said, rising from his chair. She followed him to a large set of double doors that lead to the library. “It is attached to my study which is where I spend the bulk of my day. I will be near by if you need me.” 

 

Hermione stepped into the library and sucked in a sharp breath. The room was huge. Windows made up one entire wall with a cushioned bench set before it. Floor to ceiling shelving lined the remainder of the room and flanked a large stone fireplace. There was a long, comfortable looking sofa and two large chairs situated around the hearth and a rolling staircase pushed into the corner. 

 

Stacks of books littered the floor and the shelves were crammed to overflowing with a mixture of antique and modern texts. Near the floor of one bank of shelves were several magical texts held in place by a chain that extended in front of them. No doubt those were dark magic texts. His library was like a dream come true for a bibliophile such as herself. 

 

“Are you horrified or are you pleased? Your expression is confusing.” Lucius said, watching her spin slowly in the center of the room. 

 

“Both.” She said in awe. “So many books, such amazing space…it is wonderful.” 

 

“But?”

 

“You are correct, it needs to be taken in hand and I am just the witch to do it.” When she turned back to him she was smiling. How long had it been since someone had smiled at him? He felt warm inside knowing that he had made someone else happy, even if it was inadvertent.

 

“Then I shall leave it in your very capable hands. Take your time, look around and then come see me before you leave and give me your initial impressions.” With a slight bow Lucius left her alone to look around.

 

****

**~@~**

She spent hours alone in the library just skimming the shelves and contemplating the beautiful mess of words and knowledge at her fingertips. She hadn’t realized just how long she had been there until the doors opened once more and Lucius entered.

 

He grew concerned as the hour grew late and she never re-surfaced. The elves had informed him that she had never shown up for lunch nor had she requested a tray. He looked around the room, thinking it empty until he noticed her huddled at the top of the rolling staircase with her nose pressed into a book and a smile on her lips.

 

“Hermione?” He climbed the first few steps and waited for her to acknowledge him. “Is everything alright? It is nearing supper time and you never came to speak to me.” 

 

“Is it really so late?” She asked, looking around for a clock. “I apologize, it’s just…there are so many wonderful books in your collection and…well books are an addiction for me, one I haven’t fed in a very, very long time.”

 

“My books are at your disposal, Hermione. Feel free to borrow what you like with the exception of the ones of a more…questionable….nature.” He returned her smile, amused by her almost childlike delight in something as simple as a book. “Did you have a chance to look around at all?”

 

“Oh, yes! The shelving needs to be redone in a more ergonomic pattern. Deeper shelves for larger tomes and smaller for the more delicate editions. Your darker texts would be better protected with a glass enclosed shelving unit with a ward on the doors and a lock. Your chains are old fashioned and no real impediment to the very curious. You also have duplicate copies of several books that with your permission I would like to donate to Hogwarts.” She said.

 

“Consider it done. I will have a contractor in tomorrow to speak with you about the shelving and you have my permission to send any duplicates to the school.” He said. “The wards on the house have been altered to admit you; you may access the library and my study through the floo network. Do you need me to escort you home?”

 

“N-no…I shall be fine on my own.” She didn’t think Ron would be very welcoming of Lucius in their home. He still held a very strong grudge against the family. 

 

“Then I will see you tomorrow.” He said. “Good evening, Hermione.”

 

“Good evening, Lucius.” She said as she slung her bag over her shoulder and used the floo network to return home. She needn’t have concerned herself with Ron’s feelings, the house was empty.


	4. A Working Lunch

****

**Chapter Four: A Working Lunch**

_**"To find out what one is fitted to do, and to secure an opportunity to do it, is the key to happiness." – John Dewey** _

 

In the week that Hermione had been working for Lucius Malfoy she already felt better. She felt productive and useful as she set about righting his library. It had been so long since she had taken any real pleasure in anything that the feelings seemed new and sometimes scary. She really had needed this opportunity more than she thought. 

 

She began with the books stacked on the floor, going over each one and carefully documenting the title, author and year of publication. Some of the titles amazed her as they were nearly impossible to get, a few were even believed to be no longer in existence yet there they sat collecting dust on Malfoy’s floor. She divided them into categories and tossed all duplicates into a box bound for Hogwarts. 

 

She had done so much yet still had barely made a dent in his vast collection. This pleased her because it meant that the project was going to take some time and she would get to savor that warm, sated feeling of having done something productive for quite a while. 

 

She sat on the floor of the library with a silver tray in front of her nibbling idly on her lunch and thumbing through a book when she heard the doors open behind her. Lucius tilted his head, wondering why she was eating on the floor instead of using the cart provided by the staff and sitting in a chair. 

 

“I thought to invite you to join me for lunch, get a progress report on your first week.” He said. Hermione set the book aside and pushed to her feet.

 

“Of course!” She said, dusting her hands on the seat of her khaki trousers before bending over to retrieve her tray. When she stood upright Lucius was there taking it from her hands and carrying it into his study where he placed it on a small table across from his.

 

“Please be seated.” He said, holding a chair out for her. His manners were impeccable and somewhat disconcerting as she wasn’t accustomed to it. Once she was settled properly into a chair he took the seat across from her and tucked himself beneath the table. “So, how are things progressing?”

 

“Well, I have begun to catalogue your collection. Going through each text and documenting it then sorting them into different categories. So far I have completed half of what is currently stacked on the floor.” He was eating but she could tell that he was listening. It was an odd feeling to be having a conversation during meal time where the other person was actually listening to what she said.

 

“And what is your impression so far?” He asked.

 

“That you have a collection of great value and you should take better care of your books.” She said, biting her lip when she realized what she had said. He looked up and she sighed with relief at the amused twist to his lips.

 

“That is why I hired you.” He chuckled. 

 

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to be rude, I have gotten out of the habit of socializing with other people since…” Since the death of her child. She didn’t need to say the words, he understood.

 

“No need to apologize. You are entitled; no doubt I deserve it for some slight in the past.” He watched her nibble at her sandwich and her cheeks were flushed. She had seemed to perk up a bit since their first meeting; she looked better, healthier even in just a few short days. 

 

“You have more than made amends for your past, I will not hold it against you.” She knew about his year in Azkaban, then the subsequent year of house arrest and yet another year on probation. He had paid for his crimes and had mended his ways; she had nothing to hold against him that would not seem petty and unfair. 

 

“You would be the only person who doesn’t.” He said cryptically. She didn’t know what to say to that. People could be terribly stubborn about letting go of the past. She knew that first hand as her husband was one of those people. He didn’t forget or forgive easily. Sometimes she wondered if that was why things were so strained between them. Did he blame her for Oliver’s death? Did he believe she had done something wrong?

 

The silence became deafening and uncomfortable as they ate their meal. The sound of her own chewing was getting to her. It was too similar to meals at home and she _needed_ something different.

 

“How are Draco and Mrs. Malfoy?” She asked. Lucius sat back in his chair and sighed heavily.

 

“Draco is living in London, very busy with his business interests. As for Mrs. Malfoy, well I wouldn’t really know, she doesn’t speak to me unless absolutely necessary.” What had made him reveal that to her? Why would he tell a veritable stranger about the sad state of his marriage?

 

“I am sorry, Lucius.” She didn’t know what else to say. She knew that the words meant to comfort rarely did. More often than not they made a person feel worse so she would not patronize him by spewing false sentiment. “I understand.” 

 

“Do you? She blames me for everything. For nearly losing Draco, for the loss of our reputation and she’s right, it is my fault.” He was like a leaky dam; once the confessions began flowing there was no stopping him. 

 

“Not entirely. She had a choice not to go along with your decisions. She could have taken Draco and gone but she chose to stay. It is just as much her fault as yours.” Hermione could see that he felt remorse for what he put his family through and she wondered at a woman who could not forgive or accept her own role in what had happened. 

 

“Well she doesn’t see it that way. She chooses to ignore me and my son avoids me. The honest truth is that you are the only person who has actually spoken t me at any length in a very long time, Hermione.” He was more grateful for her company than she could possibly imagine. He had not realized how lonely his life had become.

 

“I can empathize.” She said softly. 

 

“Might I inquire about your husband?” He asked, curious about her. 

 

“I am afraid my situation is no brighter than yours.” She said, staring at him across the table. “He works nearly all the time and even when we are together he is never there. He doesn’t talk to me about the baby or visit his grave; it is like he never existed.”

 

“What is his name?” Lucius saw the tears fill her eyes.

 

“Oliver.” She smiled softly. 

 

“A very nice, literary name. How old is he?” 

 

“He would have been one next month.” She felt raw as she spoke of her son to Lucius. It was painful yet with every word she felt lighter. “He had red hair and blue eyes like his father. There was a tiny little birthmark on his thigh that looked like a cloud. He was beautiful.”

 

“I have no doubt that he was. I recall Draco as a baby; I remember how beautiful and innocent he was. Did they ever tell you what happened?” He asked.

 

“No, they never found a cause of death. They told me it was _just one of those things_. “She shook her head in irritation. Their _explanation_ angered her still.

 

“He was obviously too good for this world then and the powers that be needed him more than you.” He said softly. “He is a very lucky boy to have a mother who loves and misses him so much.”

 

“Thank you, Lucius. No one ever speaks of him, no one ever asks me about him. They are all so afraid that I will break, that I can’t handle it when all I want is for him to be remembered.” She said, wiping away at the tears in her eyes.

 

“I don’t believe in tiptoeing around it. He was and is something that is very important to you and it is only natural to speak of such things.” He smiled. “We are an interesting pair are we not?” 

 

“Misery loves company?” She smiled back. 

 

“Then we are destined to be great companions.” He raised his glass of water and she joined him. “To partners in melancholy.” He toasted and for the first time in a year Hermione laughed.


	5. Unlikely Friendships

****

**Chapter Five: Unlikely Friendships**

_**The making of friends who are real friends, is the best token we have of a man's success in life. – Edward Everett hale** _

 

 

Another week passed by and Hermione was finally ready to begin cataloguing the books on the shelves. She probably would have been further along if she hadn’t begun having lunch with Lucius on a daily basis. What should have taken an hour to have a meal and give a progress report took them two and sometimes three hours. 

 

It was incredible how much they had to talk about. Books, music, art and magic. So much in common that it was amazing to think that they had once been enemies. She felt guilty that he was paying her to do a job yet she spent so much of her time just talking with him. It wasn’t just at lunch either; he would often take a break from his work and wander into the library where once more she would be drawn into conversations with him.

 

She understood his need for companionship, she felt it too. The need to be heard, the need to have someone care that you are speaking and acknowledge your presence. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who didn’t act as though she would break at any moment. Lucius didn’t hedge topics because they might hit a little close to heart, he put them out there and nothing was off limits.

 

There was a feeling of freedom that came from spending time with him. She didn’t have that with anyone else. Friends and family all looked at her with pity shining in their eyes. She couldn’t bear it. When she was around them she wanted to scream and shake them all, force them to say the words that were always there. _Your child is gone and we don’t know what to do._

 

But no one ever acknowledged the giant, weeping elephant in the room. The ignored it as though it never happened, like it was going to just go away. It was never going to go away, she had accepted that. She would grieve for Oliver for the rest of her life. Maybe one day the pain would lessen, but it was never going to go away. It would always be there.

 

She sorted through yet another shelf of books and let her mind wander. She did not hear Lucius enter and she jumped when he touched her shoulder.

 

“Oh dear gods!” She gasped, turning to face him. “Lucius, you scared me!”

 

“I’m sorry, I called your name but you were lost in your thoughts.” He said. “How goes the project?”

 

“It’s coming along nicely. I think that by the end of the month we can probably have the contractor in to discuss the builds.” She said. “Did you come to get me for lunch?”

 

“I did, I thought perhaps you might enjoy eating in the gazebo by the lake.” He said. “It will soon be too cold to enjoy outdoor dining.” 

 

“That sounds nice.” She said as she fell into step beside him as he led her down a hall and out a set of glass doors that opened onto a wide, sweeping veranda. They walked across the lawn, the fall air was crisp but comfortable as they stepped into the enclosed gazebo and sat down for lunch. “I didn’t even know that there was a lake on your property.”

 

“Ah, this property extends for many kilometers. I own the wooded area for as far as the eye can see. There is a hunting lodge deep in the East Woods, though I rarely use it.” He said. “The elves maintain it of course but it pretty much remains empty. Hunting lost its appeal for me after the war.”

 

She suddenly got the image of Lucius in cream colored jodhpurs, tall black boots and a red hunting jacket atop a horse. The image was rather fetching she thought. She wondered if he kept hounds.

 

“I can imagine. I heard rumors of _special_ hunting expeditions that took place on your property.” She said.

 

“Those were….in a word, disgusting and I am ashamed to have been a party to them. But as they say, hindsight is twenty/twenty.” He said between bites. “Can we speak of something more pleasant?”

 

“Do you have hounds?” She asked suddenly. He looked up, shocked by her question.

 

“Well…yes, actually, why?” He chuckled.

 

“I don’t know, you mentioned a hunting lodge and I got an image of you in my head wearing the red jacket and jodhpurs. So I wondered if you had hounds.” She laughed.

 

“I also have the jacket and jodhpurs, as well as the hounds.” He said.

 

“Can I see them?”

 

“The clothing?”

 

“No, the hounds.” She laughed. He gave her a curious look and smiled.

 

“Finish your lunch and I will take you to the kennels.” He said softly. He had never had anyone show an interest in his dogs before. Narcissa found them dirty and disgusting and refused to let them into the house. She would also refuse to go near him if he had been with them, insisting that she could smell them on him. 

 

There was no way that was true, his dogs were pampered and bathed regularly, he made sure of it. Narcissa had never shown an interest in any of his hobbies. In fact, when he thought about it he wasn’t sure she even knew that he _had_ hobbies outside of making money.

 

That was probably one of the reasons he enjoyed his afternoons with Hermione so much. She _was_ interested and she asked questions and actually listened when he replied. She probably knew more about him in a few weeks time than the woman he had been married to for thirty years.

 

She also listened when he talked; she didn’t just hear him speaking and make the appropriate “yes” and “oh?” responses. She actually listened and questioned him, lured him in to discussions and debates. She made him feel alive again, and valuable as something other than a provider. 

 

After lunch he led her down a stone footpath to a clearing just inside the wood line. She could see the stables with three stunning horses in a paddock, two thestrals and what appeared to be a set of Pegasus tethered to a pole. A carriage house was near by and under the carport she could see a shiny black carriage. There was a small owlery with several eagle owls perched on a ledge watching them. Then there was what appeared to be a small cottage with a large fenced area behind it.

 

“That is the kennel.” He said, directing her to the cottage.

 

“Your dogs have their own _house_?” She asked incredulously as he pushed open the door and led her inside.

 

“They have to live somewhere, Narcissa won’t let them in the main house and they are far too valuable to leave out of doors.” He said.

 

Hermione looked around in amazement at the splendor in which the Malfoy pets lived. Elaborate beds were lined up along the walls with plush mattresses and pillows embroidered with their names, all of them after British Monarchs. Lucius whistled and she looked up to see several dogs darting through the open back door. 

 

Irish Wolfhounds, Beagles and King Charles Spaniels yelped and wagged their tails happily as their master patted each head lovingly. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him surrounded by dogs and grinning as he bestowed his affection on them. 

 

“They are wonderful!” She exclaimed as she fell to her knees and began to pet and scratch the friendly animals. They loved her, they were jumping all over her, licking her face and nuzzling her hair but she didn’t shove them away or try to hit them, she accepted their affection with a squeal of laughter and kissed their furry muzzles. “How can anyone not love this?” She laughed.

 

“I wish I knew.” He said, delighting in her joy.

 

“Thank you for sharing this with me.” She said, pushing herself to her feet as his dogs circled and yelped happily around them. 

 

“What are friends for?” He said quietly, returning her smile. He realized that they _had_ become friends in the short time that she had worked for him. Real friends were something he had never known. He had once heard it said that you can measure a man by his real friends. If that were true then he was nothing before she came along. Their unlikely friendship made him feel worthy of happiness.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~


	6. Life at Home Part I

****

**Chapter Six: Life At Home: Part I**

_**It is dismal coming home, when there is nobody to welcome one! - Ann Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, 1764** _

 

As usual the house was empty when Hermione returned home. It was always a disappointment to enter the house alone. She wished that Ron would greet her in the evenings the way Lucius greeted her on the mornings she worked, with a smile that said ‘I am happy to see you’. Perhaps it was just too much to ask too soon. They said that people dealt with grief differently, that each person took their own time to go through the stages.

 

She could already feel herself getting better but perhaps it wasn’t the case for him. Maybe he needed longer. She sighed and put away her things then made her way to the kitchen to prepare supper. She busied herself with the preparations, singing softly to herself as she went.

 

Ron opened the front door and was greeted with the welcoming scent of food cooking in the kitchen. He emptied his pockets into the basket on the table and removed his boots and cloak. His nose led him to the kitchen where he stopped in the doorway to watch his wife. 

 

She was singing to herself, slightly out of tune and he was pretty sure that she was getting the lyrics wrong but he said nothing. She was smiling, she looked happy. She had color in her cheeks and seemed to have more energy. It seemed that her new job really agreed with her.   
He hadn’t seen her look quite so happy in a very long time. It was nice and troubling at the same time as he had nothing to do with it. She looked up suddenly and saw him, a soft smile gracing her lips.

 

“Welcome home. How was your day?” She asked as she began to make their plates.

 

“Busy, I caught up on a lot of paperwork.” When was the last time she had asked him about his day? 

 

“That’s good.” She set their food on the table and waited, watching as Ron walked right past her and settled into his chair. She sighed and pulled out her own chair thinking that Lucius could teach a class to the younger generation about etiquette. 

 

“What did you do today?” He asked, digging in to the chicken and pasta dish she had made for dinner. 

 

“I catalogued books mostly. I finally got through what was stacked on the floors and moved on to the shelves.” She said. “I played with Lucius’s dogs for a while.”

 

“Lucius?” Ron’s head lifted at the sound of Malfoy’s first name on his wife’s lips. “You call him Lucius?”

 

“It’s his name, he asked me to.” Hermione shrugged. “He has a kennel that is actually a house where his dogs live. There are several, all of them named for kings and queens.” 

 

Ron couldn’t recall the last time she had been so chatty. Meals were usually ate in silence followed by them going in separate directions to do who knows what until time for them to crawl into bed. He wasn’t sure what to think.

 

“He is being decent to you then?” Ron asked.

 

“Oh yes, he is quite wonderful to me actually. We have become friends I think.” She said.

 

“Friends? With Malfoy?” Ron didn’t look convinced, in fact he had a rather derisive smirk on his face.

 

“Yes. I give him daily progress reports over lunch and he is always very kind to me. He talks to me about all sorts of things.” She said, seeing that Ron had drifted off and was no longer listening. He had already finished the first bottle of beer and accio’d another from the ice box. She felt tears burning the backs of her eyes and fought to keep them from falling as dinner went on in silence. 

 

She cleaned up the kitchen and then readied herself for bed, curling onto her side at the very edge of the mattress. She hadn’t seen Ron again after he finished his supper and left her alone at the table. He was likely out back, drinking alone in the dark. She missed him. At least she missed the man he used to be. 

 

It was deep into the night when she felt him crawl into bed beside her. He didn’t turn his back to her as he usually did. For the first time in over a year he pressed up against her back and held her tight. 

 

“You looked really pretty this evening, Hermione.” He whispered in her ear, brushing light kisses along the back of her neck. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as his hand slid up her abdomen and cupped her breast, he rolled her onto her back and covered her lips with his. She kissed him back and tried not to be revolted by the smell and taste of the beer he had drank. 

 

The touch that had once excited her now made her feel as though something were crawling beneath her skin. She tried to will it away as he moved over her and tugged the knit fabric of her gown away from her breasts and lowered his head. Tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. She felt nothing, she was numb. She couldn’t feel his tongue on her nipple or the sucking of his mouth. There was no pleasure to be had, only shame and the panic of feeling suffocated. 

 

“Ron, stop.” She whimpered, pushing at his shoulders gently. His hand continued to tug the hem of her gown up and over her thighs, his fingers delving between. “Please, Ron, stop…” She closed her thighs and pushed on him more firmly.

 

“Come on, Baby, it’s been so long.” He groaned. “I miss you.” His words tore at her heart and she wanted to respond to him. She wanted her heart, mind and body to welcome him but it wasn’t happening. The more he touched her the more ill she felt.

 

“I can’t…Ron, please…” She shoved him hard and he fell off of her, rolling onto his back and covering his eyes with his arm. She rolled onto her side, curling into a fetal position as she sobbed.

 

“I don’t understand.” He said.

 

“I’m just not ready.” She whispered. Maybe she would never be ready. Maybe something had died inside her that made it impossible for her to bear another’s touch. She heard his frustrated growl as he rose from the bed. The bedroom door shook in its frame when he slammed it behind him.


	7. Life at Home Part II

****

**Chapter Seven: Life at Home: Part II**

_**The most profound statements are often said in silence. Lynn Johnston (1947 - ), For Better or For Worse, 01-15-04** _

 

He was ignoring her and she didn’t like it. Narcissa was a vain creature and she could admit it. She liked having Lucius beneath her heel. She enjoyed having him try repeatedly to lure her into conversation, to have him seeking her attentions, her forgiveness, and she liked refusing him. She liked having the power in their relationship over the last several years. It was heady, addictive like a drug. 

 

Over the last few weeks his attempts to connect with her had dwindled. He no longer tried to make small talk over dinner and when she went to him for her pocket money he didn’t slip her the extra galleons for “something special” as he normally did. He had been ignoring her. He did NOT ignore her; SHE was the one who did the ignoring.

 

He had been acting so strangely, smiling and humming to himself. He spent almost all of his time locked up in that stuffy old study but she had seen him out in the yard playing with those infernal dogs of his earlier in the evening. Something was amiss and she felt her hold on him slipping. 

 

“You seem rather happy today.” She said coolly. He looked up from his plate, rather shocked to have her speak to him.

 

“I got some fresh air; it did me a world of good. I shall make the effort to get out more in the future.” He said, returning his attention to his meal.

 

“Don’t expect a warm welcome. Ten years has done little to soften your reputation.” She sniffed.

 

“I would never presume to be welcomed warmly or otherwise.” He said tightly, irritated by her snide remark. 

 

Narcissa was a bit flustered by the irritation she heard in his voice. He had been so emotionless for so long that she wasn’t sure how to respond to the sternness in his voice. 

 

“Well, it has been over a month, I suppose your needs are upon you. You may come to my chambers this evening.” She said loftily as though she were doing him a great favor.

 

He looked up and nearly laughed. His needs were upon him? She made it sound as though his sexual desire were something that came with the full moon, like lycanthropy or a woman’s menstrual flow. He stared at her for several moments. She really was beautiful, yet he felt nothing. Not a single stirring of interest.

 

He had no desire what so ever to share her bed. To have her lie beneath him stiff and unfeeling. It was punishment, not pleasure and he was tired of it. 

 

“No thank you.” He refilled his wineglass. “I am in the middle of a very good book.”

 

A book? He was refusing to come to her bed for a book? He never refused her! Ever! In all their years of marriage he had never walked away from an opportunity to have her. Did he not realize that she was doing him a service by seeing to his needs? She didn’t care for intercourse, she never had. She only engaged in it because it was expected of her.

 

She was losing him. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t survive the shame of it if it were to become public knowledge that she couldn’t keep her husband happy. Or if, god forbid, he were to leave her. She would be destitute!

 

“Are you certain? I find myself quite eager for your company.” She said, trying to sound warm and seductive. 

 

Lucius quirked a brow in her direction and the corner of his mouth lifted.

 

“I am very certain, Narcissa. And you are not eager for my company and you never have been. You have a reprieve from your _wifely duties_ , I should think you would be pleased.” He saw the familiar disdain reshape her face and realized that his rejection of her offer had angered her.

 

You never refuse me. Have you taken a mistress? Wait, of course not, no woman would have you with your background. Is it a brothel you are visiting?” She asked.

 

“There is no one else meeting my needs, Narcissa. I just find myself…uninterested….at the present.” He said.

 

“Well it is only logical that a man of your age would find himself with performance issues.” She sniffed. She was deliberately trying to insult him. How dare he refuse her offer? 

 

“I am quite capable, just not interested.” He said unapologetically. He found her little digs rather amusing. She really was a conceited bit of fluff. It hadn’t always been so. She had loved him once, and he had loved her. Somewhere along the line between the dark lord, prison and war they had lost the warmth that they shared. 

 

“Fine, I hope you enjoy your _book_!” She said, rising from the table and tossing her napkin down in a fit of temper. “Do NOT expect me to so generously offer myself to you in the future.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said, stifling his laughter as she flounced from the room. For once he enjoyed the silence as he ate his dinner. His mind filled with an afternoon spent outside with his dogs and Hermione. She was a breath of fresh air in his stifling, lonely life. 

 

He finished his dinner and retired to his bedchamber, alone, where he settled into bed and into the book he had begun the night before. He didn’t regret his refusal to share a bed with Narcissa. While his body did have needs he found more satisfaction at his own hand than with her. Of course she would make him pay for his rejection, but it was worth it for the peace he felt with himself.


	8. A Foolish Man

****

**Chapter Eight: A Foolish Man**

_**Ignorant men don't know what good they hold in their hands until they've flung it away. Sophocles (496 BC - 406 BC)** _

 

Since the night she had refused his advances Hermione had slept alone. She had seen her husband only in passing with nary a word spoken between them. She knew that he was hurt but she didn’t think it fair to either of them for her to pretend something that she just didn’t feel. 

 

She heard the pecking at the window and she closed her eyes. It was the same as it had been every day for a week. Shortly after lunch and owl would come, peck on the window and deliver a message from her husband. She didn’t really have to open it, she knew what it would say, but in off chance that he would surprise her she opened the letter.

 

_Working late, don’t wait up._

_Love,  
Ron_

 

He never gave her more of an explanation than that. Just those five little words each day. She couldn’t say when he actually returned home, she was usually asleep and would wake up to find him passed out on the sofa and once on the floor. She asked him not to drink, had stopped purchasing beer and alcohol but it still found its way into the house. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She wanted to help him but how?

 

She didn’t really know what to do for herself. Grief was such a selfish experience. It was so difficult to see outside of one’s own pain. She could feel herself moving forward and knew that her job and her new found friendship had a lot to do with that. She wished that Ron would find something other than a bottle to give him comfort.

 

She felt as though the world she had built for herself was falling apart. She felt helpless and hopeless, unable to find a way to repair that which was broken. She let the letter fall to the top of the coffee table as she sank down onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands, crying silently. 

 

Through the open door Lucius had been observing her. He saw her walk across the library to the window and collect her missive from the owl. He watched as she read it and then let it fall from her fingertips to land on the table. When she began to cry he was no longer able to just watch her. 

 

He knew what the letter said. Her husband was working late, again. She had been working late every day for the last week. Not that he minded her being there, it was nice for him to have her there, but he didn’t want to see her in pain. 

 

“Hermione?” he said her name softly as he stopped just a few feet in front of her. She looked up and hastily wiped her eyes.

 

“Lucius, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…”

 

“Don’t apologize, just tell me if you are all right.” He was concerned about her. 

 

“I will be fine. I suppose I should look on the bright side, I don’t have to cook dinner again.” She said with a sad, watery smile. 

 

“Perhaps you would like to join me for dinner?” He asked.

 

“Isn’t Mrs. Malfoy expecting you?” Hermione knew that they had supper together every night, she also knew that Lucius dreaded it. 

 

“She is actually playing Gin with her friends this evening, so I am free to take you out to dinner if you would like.” He said.

 

“Out? But you rarely go out, won’t people gossip about seeing us out together?” She didn’t want to see their names smeared through the papers for an innocent dinner.

 

“True, but we do not have to go to a wizarding establishment. We could have a simple meal in London or we could go to Paris.” He offered.

 

“There is a nice little place about a mile from the Leaky Cauldron, they have the best steak dinners I have ever had, I used to go with my parents before they passed.” She smiled up at him, thankful for the company he offered. 

 

“Then fetch your cloak and let us be on our way.” Lucius called for his cloak and gloves and then helped her into hers before they apparated into the alley in back of The Leaky Cauldron. With her hand tucked into his elbow Hermione showed him the way to the little restaurant tucked into a large, red bricked building. The host recognized her immediately and led her to a circular booth in the back.

 

“It is very quaint.” Lucius said as he looked around at the scarred yet highly polished wood paneling and furniture. Dark red table cloths covered the tables and matching red cushions padded the chairs and booths. The soft flicker of tiny oil lamps in the center of the tables gave it a charming, romantic atmosphere.

 

“It has been run by the same family for nigh on a century now.” She said, not even bothering to read the menu. She knew exactly what she wanted. 

 

“Impressive. Do you have any suggestions?” He asked.

 

“My father swore that they have the best filet in England.” Lucius nodded and laid his menu aside.

 

“Then I will trust his opinion. Would you care for some wine?” He asked, looking over the wine list.

 

“I’m not much of a drinker to be honest, I wouldn’t know a good wine if it were to bite me.” She chuckled. 

 

“Then allow me.” He gestured for the waiter and ordered the most expensive red wine on the menu. It was obviously not a common request because the waiter looked stunned as he hurried off to fill the order.

 

 

“You don’t have to spend so much money, Lucius, I can pay for my own….”

 

“Absolutely not, I invited you to dinner I will pay for it.” He said. 

 

“I won’t argue with you.” She sat back when the owner personally brought the wine to the table and filled their glasses. He introduced himself to them, taken with his obviously wealthy customer. Hermione watched as Lucius spoke to the man politely, thanking him for his hospitality yet making it clear that he wished to be left alone with her. It was really quite brilliant to watch him maneuver the man so easily. She understood why he was so dangerous. 

 

“Now, what would you like for dinner?” He asked as the owner finally walked away.

 

“Why?” Since when was Lucius interested in what she was eating.

 

“So that I may relay your order to the server.” She felt like an idiot. He was trying to be a gentleman and order for her. 

 

“The beef medallions in mushroom sauce.” She said sheepishly. “Sorry about that, I’m just not used to a man being so polite.”

 

“That is quite a shame. Contrary to popular belief, Draco has impeccable manners. I sent him to the finest tutors in etiquette. Though I understand if you don’t believe me, he was terribly rude to you in the past I am certain.” He swirled the wine in his glass and held it up to the light before holding it up to her nose and inhaling the bouquet. He finally took a delicate sip, rolling it around on his tongue before making a soft sound of approval and taking an actual drink. 

 

“Wow, all of that for a drink of wine?” She lifted her glass and took a drink, thinking the flavor a bit bitter and not really to her liking.

 

“Wine tasting is a delicate process.” He said, obviously enjoying his glass.

 

“I will take your word for it. I don’t think it is for me though. I apparently don’t have the palette for it.” She said, pushing her glass away.

 

“I will try not to hold it against you.” He said quietly. “It is good to see you smiling. You should always smile, Hermione. Those eyes should never cry.”

 

She didn’t know what to say. His words were so sweet, so caring and so…perfect. 

 

“You aren’t at all who I thought you were.” She shook her head in wonder. 

 

“That makes two of us.” He said. “At some point a man has to face up to his failures and realize what isn’t working for him and change. They say that insanity is defined by doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. That was me, for a very, very long time.” 

 

The waiter interrupted and Lucius placed their order, then returned his attention to her.

 

“What changed you?” She asked, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin on her fist.

 

“Prison, failure, shame, nearly losing my child. All of those things played their part.” He said honestly. “Once I was a powerful, feared and respected wizard, now I spend my life seeking forgiveness that will never come.” 

 

Hermione knew he spoke of Narcissa. From what she had gathered their relationship was non existent. She blamed Lucius for everything and spent her time making him feel horrible, forever holding it over his head and withholding her forgiveness.

 

“I forgive you.” She said, and she meant it. He met her gaze across the table and he felt gratitude like he had never known.

 

“Thank you, Hermione. That means a lot to me.” 

 

 

Dinner was a leisurely affair, the two of them discussing a number of topics before they were finished. They never seemed to run out of conversation, the lulls were few and far between. She was a bit surprised when he laid a credit card on the table to pay. When she commented on it he explained that it was issued by Gringotts and they converted the money over to muggle currency. She hadn’t even known that the bank offered such services. She and Ron did things the hard way she supposed. 

 

She and Lucius were the last to leave the restaurant. He helped her with her cloak then they walked together back to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron.

 

“I will see you home.” Lucius said, wrapping his hand around her arm. 

 

“You don’t need to, I will be fine.” She said.

 

“It is late, Hermione, I insist.” He said. “However, I am afraid that since I have never been to your home you will have to be the one to apparate us there.” She laughed and with a crack they were standing on her front porch. The house was completely dark and the wards undisturbed. Ron wasn’t home.

 

“Looks like another night alone.” She said, staring at the darkened windows. She withdrew her keys from her bag and unlocked the door. “Thank you for seeing me home, Lucius, and thank you for dinner.” 

 

“No need to thank me, it was my pleasure. I can not recall the last time I had such a pleasant evening, so it is I who should be thanking you.” He said.

 

“I enjoyed it too. I will see you tomorrow then?” She asked, reaching inside to flip on the light. She hated walking in to a dark house. 

 

“Of course.” He watched her turn to enter and he stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. “Hermione, Ron is a fool not to see how incredibly lucky he is.” 

 

He withdrew his hand and took a step back then disapparated without saying another word. He had said enough.


	9. A Touch Can Say So Much

****

**Chapter Nine: A Touch Can Say So Much**

_**Grief is the agony of an instant, the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life. - Benjamin Disraeli (1804 – 1881)** _

 

 

Lucius had noticed that Hermione seemed distracted since she came in that morning. She was quiet through lunch which wasn’t the norm for them. After dinner a few nights ago he debated on whether or not he had crossed the line when he called her husband a fool. It was the truth in his eyes but it didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted to hear it. He kept his distance, leaving her to work in silence, to work out whatever it was that weighed so heavily on his mind.

 

Late afternoon found them sitting comfortably on the library sofa discussing her progress and her ideas for an index to make it easier for him to find what he needed in the library. She was distracted, her heart not into it the way it usually was. He could hear the detachment in every word. What was going on with her?

 

They were interrupted by one of the house-elves carrying a note on a silver salver. Lucius stifled an apprehensive groan when his servant bypassed him and handed the letter to Hermione. She slid it from the tray and as the servant left the room she opened the letter with shaking fingers. He watched her as she skimmed over the contents then balled the parchment up in her hands.

 

She lunged from the sofa and went to the window, the parchment still clutched tightly in her hands. Everything about her body language screamed anger, her straight back, clenched hands and taut jaw all signs that she was tense. For whatever reason, this time her husband’s cancelation more than upset her.

 

“Working late?” Lucius asked, not sure what else to say.

 

“So he says.” She said through clenched teeth. He saw the tears begin rolling down her cheeks. “Today is Oliver’s first birthday. We were supposed to go after work to visit his grave. He hasn’t gone a single time to visit our son and now he has bailed on his birthday.”

 

“Maybe he just couldn’t, Hermione.” Lucius said, trying to rationalize what Ron was thinking.

 

“If Draco hadn’t made it, if you hadn’t gotten to him in time, would you avoid recognizing his birthday?” She asked quietly, staring out the window.

 

“No, I would not.” He said. She nodded as though she knew already what he would say. He wouldn’t have been able to stay away had it been his child. He would likely spend hours sitting in the cemetery staring at his child’s resting place. 

 

Hermione heard him get up and walk into his study. He was giving her a moment to compose herself and she appreciated it. Her heart was breaking all over again as she relived that day over and over and over. Was she destined to relive her absolute worst moment every year for the rest of her life? Could she go through the extended life of a witch forever recalling that one, worst day? 

 

“Shall we go?” Hermione turned around and saw Lucius standing in the doorway wearing his cloak and hat. Hers was draped over his arm and in his gloved hand he clutched his cane along with a bouquet of white orchids and a teddy bear with a blue ribbon around its neck. 

 

“Lucius, you don’t…”

 

“You should not go alone. Let me accompany you and celebrate your son.” He walked across the room and held out her cloak. The seconds that she stood there staring at him seemed to drag out forever before she finally accepted her cloak and donned it. She followed Lucius down the hall and out the door, simultaneously apparating to the cemetery in Godric’s Hollow. 

 

Lucius walked slightly behind her as she weaved in and out of the headstones and made her way towards a shady little spot near a burbling creek. There, beneath the long branches of a weeping willow sat a marble stone. Swirls of silver, blue and gray were etched with the words:

 

****

**Oliver Frederick Weasley  
November 20, 2006  
Our precious boy**

Atop the stone lay a small carving of a sleeping child. Lucius stepped forward and laid the roses and bear at the base of the stone, then stepped back. Grief was not something he was familiar with, but he could imagine the pain she was feeling as she knelt before the stone and bowed her head. 

 

He could remember vividly how it felt to race through the halls of Hogwarts desperately searching for his son, fearing with everything in him that he would be too late, that his son would be wrenched from him before he could apologize, before he could tell him just how much he loved him. He could not imagine how hard it must be to have never had that chance. 

 

“I didn’t get to hold him nearly long enough before they came to take him away.” She said, brushing the fallen leaves from in front of the marker. “It didn’t seem right. He looked like he was sleeping and for a few minutes I convinced myself that he was, they had made a mistake and he was just sleepy.”

 

Lucius settled onto the stone bench placed beneath the tree and listened. It seemed important for her to speak her piece. He suspected that she had never gotten the opportunity to do so before. 

 

“He was so small, so light in my arms. He had a full, round face and tons of bright red hair. The coroner told me that his eyes were blue, but I never got to see for myself. We buried him in the little dress robes that were meant for his homecoming. They were light blue with tiny silver snitches for snaps.” She pushed her hood back from her head and began to trace the letters of his name slowly. “He was named for my father and for Ron’s brother Fred. We were already saving for his years at Hogwarts. I remember the flowers, so many flowers and I thought why? Why send flowers that he can’t see or smell? I remember the flowers from your family. Did you send them?”

 

“Yes. I contacted my greenhouse supervisor and instructed them to send an arrangement.” He said quietly.

 

“They were lovely. Lilies. You almost couldn’t see his casket for all the flowers. I couldn’t speak to anyone. I couldn’t stand the looks on their faces or the words meant to comfort. All of them staring at me, pretending to understand when there was no way in hell that they understood. We tried for five years to get pregnant, then like some miracle it finally happened. We were so happy. I quit my job, something I never thought I would do but suddenly being a career witch seemed trivial next to being a mother. We redecorated the house, set up the nursery, baby proofed everything, bought life insurance. We were so excited.” She sighed and let her hand fall heavily into her lap. “It was all gone so quickly. The happiness was just sucked out of our world in an instant. I didn’t know what to do for him. I didn’t know what to do for myself. We didn’t turn to each other for comfort like you would think. We turned in to ourselves instead and slowly but surely we drifted further and further apart. Now I don’t know if the gap can be closed.”

 

“It takes time, Hermione. For some it takes longer than others.” She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to the stone and he heard her whisper softly _Happy Birthday, Baby. Mummy loves you_ before she got to her feet. Her shoulders shook with her sobbing and Lucius acted before he reasoned out his actions. He stood and pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest and stroking her back gently as she wept into his shoulder. 

 

He had never heard such painful noise as the sobs that were wrenched from her small, trembling body. Would she feel better when it was over or worse? Would he? In the time they had become friends they kept their physical contact to a minimum, he had never dreamed of holding her the way he was but nothing in the world would make him let her go. For the first time in a very long time someone needed him for something other than his money and while it was selfish of him, he reveled in it.

 

She was soaking his cloak with her tears but when she tried to pull away he held her tighter. She hadn’t realized how much she just needed to _say it_. How much she needed someone to just sit there and listen as she said all of the things that weighed on her heart. She had kept it inside, afraid to say anything for fear that it would hurt others, that they wouldn’t understand why she kept talking about the child she lost. 

 

Of all the people in the world to open up to, why had she chosen Lucius? Had she actually _chosen_ him? No, he had just stepped up when she had no one and given her what she needed. A willing ear and a friend. No one would ever believe her if she told them that the man who had once been her greatest enemy had turned out to be her greatest friend. 

 

As her sobs eased she simply stood there in the comfort of his arms absorbing his warmth and his strength as she felt the lightening of her burden. He did not offer platitudes or reassure her that what she felt was normal, it wasn’t normal for a person to be expected to go through so much pain in one life and he wouldn’t lie to her. He was just _there_ and that was what she needed.

 

He lowered them onto the bench where they sat side by side with her head resting on his shoulder and his arm around her back. Not a word was spoken between them for what seemed like an eternity. Her sobs turned to soft little hiccups and eventually to sniffles. He pressed a handkerchief into her hand and she wiped her tears and her nose with the square of silk. She finally sat up straight, took a deep breath and turned to look at the man who had given her the only bit of comfort that actually made a difference. 

 

Their eyes met and she felt a jolt of _something_ pass between them. Neither commented on it but both felt it and the confusion that came in its wake. He reached up and wiped away the tear that clung to her lashes, his thumb sliding over her cheek.  
Something about her tugged at him. When he was with her he could almost forget the past, the evil that had directed his life and tainted his very soul. She offered him what no one else had, her forgiveness, her acceptance. 

 

“How do you feel?” He asked, taking his hand away before the feel of her skin beneath his fingers became more than he could resist.

 

“Lighter, better.” She said shakily. She had _felt_ his touch when everyone else’s left her numb. 

 

“Good, the hour grows late, Hermione, let me escort you home.” He got to his feet and offered her his arm. He closed his eyes and bowed his head towards the monument saying goodbye to her son then slowly led her away, apparating them to her home. As expected they found the house empty and cold. “Would you like me to stay?”

 

Hermione looked at him, she wanted him to stay but knew that he couldn’t. It would not go over well were Ron to find him there. 

 

“It is best if you don’t.” She said softly. “I will see you on Monday.” Lucius nodded and once she had closed the door securely he went back to his own, cold and lonely home immediately missing the warmth he felt with her near.


	10. Can't Help Myself

****

**Chapter Ten: Cant Help Myself**

_**You may conquer with the sword, but you are conquered by a kiss.  
~ Daniel Heinsius (1580-1655)-** _

 

Anger was a powerful emotion, Hermione thought as she pulled texts from a shelf just above her head. It fired the body and the mind, it was a tangible emotion, one that slid through your veins with a burning sensation and caused your muscles to tense and relax repeatedly. She could still feel the residual burn of her anger coursing through her as she contemplated her weekend in the silence. 

 

She spent hours sitting on the sofa after Lucius dropped her off at home, just sitting in the dark with her thoughts. Her body grew tighter with every hour that passed, her anger reaching the boiling point again and again until her jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. 

 

It was nearing three in the morning when Ron finally stumbled through the front door. Still wearing his auror’s robes though it was obvious he had not been working late at all. The odor of smoke and stale alcohol clung to his clothing and he clutched a bottle in his hand as he struggled out of his cloak, leaving it in a pile on the floor.

 

“Where have you been?” She asked from the darkness. She heard him swear then the clicking of the light being turned on.

 

“Why are you sitting up? I told you I would be late.” He frowned.

 

“Ron…how could you? Today of all days, how could you?” She asked.

 

“I am not going to discuss this, Hermione. Just don’t…I want to go to bed, I need to sleep…” He headed towards their bedroom but she stepped in front of him before he could breach the hall.

 

“It was his birthday, Ron, it was Oliver’s first birthday and you couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge it.” She said tearfully.

 

“I told you not to say his name.” He growled, pain filling his eyes.

 

“OLIVER, OLIVER, OLIVER, OLIVER, OLIVER, OLIVER!” She shouted. “He was my son too and I am so sick and tired of everyone acting like he didn’t exist! He did exist! I held him, I kissed him and he was taken away from me before I could know him but he was REAL damn you!”

 

Ron closed his eyes, one hand fisted at his side and the other still clutching a half empty bottle of fire whiskey. 

 

“Don’t do this, Hermione, just stop it!” He growled. 

 

“I will not!” She reached behind her and with a whispered spell unlocked a door that had not been opened in a year, shoving it open so that it slammed against the wall. She flipped on the light and shoved a startled Ron into the room, following him inside. 

 

She gasped in agony as she looked around the room so lovingly prepared for their son. The cot, the changing table, the bookcase filled with children’s books. The little toy chest painted with tiny trains that Ron had made with his own hands in the woodshed behind his parents house, the rocking chair beneath the window where a small blanket lay draped over the arm. 

 

She heard the strangled sob that was torn from his lips and she began to cry anew. She could see him shaking, knew that his grief was tearing his heart to shreds. 

 

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, his voice broken and strained. 

 

“Say his name. Acknowledge that our son was real.” She said softly. 

 

“Stop it, Hermione. Just stop it!” He turned back towards the door and stepped into the hall, raising the bottle to his lips. She wrenched it from his hand and threw it at the wall behind his head, glass and whiskey splattering his clothing.

 

“Damn you, Ronald Weasley, SAY HIS NAME!” She screamed, her voice raw with the strain of it.

 

“I CAN’T!” He shouted back. “I’m not as strong as you, Hermione, I never have been. If I think about him….if I talk about him….then I can’t function, not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, that I don’t wish I could go back….I haven’t forgotten him I just cant…I just can’t. I felt him that morning…I was lying behind you in the bed with my arms wrapped around you and I felt him moving inside you. Then just a few hours later he was gone, with no explanation, just gone! Why? I don’t understand why. I was the man, his father, your husband…I was supposed to keep you safe from harm and I failed…but I don’t know how I failed! All I know is that my son is gone and I hate myself for it.”

 

“Ron, it wasn’t your fault, it was no one’s fault! It just happened, but he was real…we can’t keep pretending that he wasn’t.” She sobbed.

 

“You go right ahead, Hermione, if that’s what you want to do, but I just can’t. Because if I don’t forget, the memory will kill me.” He said before turning away from her and heading back to the front door. 

 

“Ron, where are you going?” She cried.

 

“I’m going to go sleep at Harry’s.” He said, before disappearing out the front door and leaving her all alone. He didn’t come back on Saturday nor did she see him on Sunday either. When she got up for work that morning it was to find Ron once more sleeping off a drunken stupor on the sofa. 

 

She was disappointed to arrive at the manor and find Lucius out for the morning tending to business affairs. She needed the comfort that came from knowing he was there. It was like she siphoned energy from him, from his strength she was able to find her own. 

 

She wasn’t sure what she would do about her marriage. She had thought that maybe confronting Ron, shoving Oliver’s existence into his face would change things but it hadn’t. The canyon between them had widened to a point that she couldn’t see the other side no matter how hard she tried. He had already refused marital counseling once and she didn’t expect him to agree to it now either. Maybe loving him just wasn’t enough. 

 

She pulled another text off of the shelf and chuckled softly as she read the title. _Mating Habits of Magical Creatures_. She wondered why he or, judging from its publication date one of his ancestors, would possibly need such a text when as far as she knew they had been wealthy for generations without actual employment being necessary, certainly not animal husbandry. 

 

After documenting it on her scroll she reached above her for the next text. It was a particularly thick book and her smaller hands had difficulty getting a good hold on it as she gave a tug. It teetered on the edge of the shelf and then fell forward, sliding from her grip. It would have smacked her directly on the top of her head but a large hand grabbed it just in time. 

 

She turned around to see Lucius standing behind her. He was wearing a set of finely tailored pin striped robes, no doubt he had intended to be intimidating to whomever it was he was meeting with. She was certain that it worked. People still feared the mark that forever marred his arm and once upon a time in his seedy past he had not been above threatening to curse individuals and their entire families in order to get what he wanted. She was confident that those days were long behind him though. 

 

“Thank you, that could have been rather painful.” She said smiling softly.

 

“That could have given you a concussion.” He said, laying the book aside. “My lunch was miserable, I kept wishing I was home, with you.”

 

“Mine was lonely, I sat on the floor and tried to decide why you have so many strange books.” She said.

 

“Oh? And what makes you think that a Malfoy would have no use for…. _The Joys of Cooking for Trolls_? Alright, so there seem to be a fair number of odd books. I couldn’t begin to tell you who provided what to the collection over the years.”

 

“Did your meeting go well?” She asked, leaning back against the shelves.

 

“It did. I purchased a large, un-plottable piece of property in Dover, fronted by the sea and backed by forest with a large, grassy clearing.” His mouth was dry as he looked down at her. He could smell the soft, floral fragrance of her perfume he was so close. The weekend had been torture for him. He had thought of nothing but how she had felt in his arms, so small and delicate, her curves soft against him. The way she had clung to him and not stood stiffly in his arms as though afraid he would muss her had been…refreshing, even if she had been crying.

 

He couldn’t help but wish he could hold her without the tears, that she would be in his arms not only to accept his comfort but because she wished to be there. He had berated himself over and over for his wayward thoughts over the weekend. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like he was, she was someone else’s wife and he was married himself. But it didn’t stop the thoughts from coming. 

 

“What are you going to do with it?” She asked, wishing her stomach would stop fluttering at his nearness, that the spicy clean scent of him didn’t make her want to step close and press her face into the side of his neck. 

 

“I have no plans for it at the moment. Real estate is always a good investment.” He said catching his breath when her tongue slid over her bottom lip. “And you? How have you spent your day?”

 

“Cataloguing the shelves I can reach from this section.” She saw him smirk and she wanted to touch his mouth.

 

“Didn’t appear as though you were doing a very good job with the reaching. Perhaps you should get a stool?” He said.

 

“There are only two left and I am done for the day.” She said, looking back over her shoulder at the books above her head.

 

“Then let me.” He reached above her for the books, leaning forward just a little so they were closer. He collected both books in his grip but he didn’t pull them down, he was too close to her to think, he couldn’t recall what it was he was supposed to be doing. All he knew was that he was close to her, that her lips were moist and just a few inches away. 

 

It happened in slow motion. One moment they were staring at each other, lost in a moment they didn’t understand and the next they were inching closer until their lips met softly. They didn’t press, it was just a gentle, light grazing of lips that had them both backing away in shock. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Lucius said. “No, that’s a lie, I am not sorry, I refuse to lie to you. I’ve wanted to kiss you since Friday.”

 

“We can’t, Lucius. It isn’t just us…we have Ron and Narcissa.” She knew she was saying the right thing, but it isn’t what she wanted to do. She wanted to kiss him, to get lost in him. To FEEL what only he made her feel.

 

“I know…it’s wrong, we would be hurting others…but I feel something when I am with you….”

 

“I feel it too, but we have to ignore it, Lucius. We can’t use each other that way.”  
She laid her fingertips against his mouth and sighed. “We have to fight it.” She said.

 

“I’ll try…you should go on home, Hermione. Go on home before I say to hell with it, to hell with them and kiss you again.” He whispered. 

 

Hermione swallowed hard and then somehow managed to make her body move away from him though it fought her with every step she took away from him. She didn’t look back. She grabbed her cloak from the sofa and without a word she stepped into the fireplace and was gone.


	11. The Un-Winnable Fight

****

**Chapter Eleven: The Un-winnable Fight**

_**If it were as easy as just walking away then a heart would never be broken. – Anonymous** _

 

 

It had been two days since he had kissed her, actually it had been fifty four hours, thirty nine minutes and approximately 44 seconds since he had kissed her. He longed to do so again with every breath he took. She had been late coming in that morning but he had said nothing. He could see the strain on her face and he wondered if it had anything to do with what had happened between them. They hadn’t spoken of it but it was there like a giant pink hippogriff in the middle of the room.

 

Lucius glanced up when a house-elf appeared with the tea cart, settling it by the window with two chairs as had become the custom since Hermione had come to the manor. The servant arranged things to perfection then stepped into the library to notify Hermione before disappearing with a light ringing sound. When she walked through the doors he noted that she didn’t just look strained, she looked exhausted. 

 

Concern flooded him as he held her chair then once she was seated he joined her. Her hands trembled as she tried to pour the tea, the silver tea pot rattling against the rim of the cup. 

 

“Let me.” He clasped her wrist with one hand and took the teapot from her with the other and finished the task. “Are you alright?”

 

“I don’t know.” She said honestly. “I think I am over tired.”

 

“Then go home and rest, or let me have a room prepared for you here. There is no rush on the library, Hermione, take the time to take care of yourself.” He watched her as she cupped her hands around the teacup, trembling as though she were freezing. Lucius snapped his fingers and a closet door opened across the room, a black sweater flying swiftly through the air and into his hands. He moved around the table and draped it around her shoulders.

 

“Thank you.” She said softly, sliding her arms into the sleeves. “It smells like you. You never struck me as the cardigan type.” She smiled.

 

“It is cashmere and you would never see me out in public wearing it. It is comfortable during the winter when the nights are cold. It warms me while I read.” He was pleased that she recognized his scent in the soft fabric as she clutched it tightly around her. 

 

“I think Ron has a mistress.” She said suddenly, staring down into her cup. She didn’t know what made her tell him the things that she did, maybe because he didn’t judge her or try to explain things away like her other friends would have. Harry and Ginny would have found an excuse for Ron’s behavior, they would have made her feel guilty for suspecting him.

 

“What led you to this conclusion?” He asked.

 

“It started with him just coming home really late but lately he hasn’t been coming home at all. When he does come home he sleeps on the sofa.” She said, sighing as she leaned back in the chair. “I went by the office last night. I thought maybe I could mend fences, try to be the one to make the first step to fix things, but he wasn’t there. Norma, the office receptionist said he had been off for a couple of days. He told me he had a very important mission he was working on and would be at the office. If he wasn’t at home or at the office, where was he? He wasn’t at Harry’s or his parents, I checked there.” 

 

“Would you like for me to have him investigated?” Lucius wouldn’t hesitate to call in some favors from. He had a crack team of private investigators at his disposal if she desired them. Though Weasley didn’t strike him as the type of man to keep a paramour, more than likely he was off somewhere drowning his sorrows and Hermione was feeling guilty for having kissed him.

 

“No, thank you for offering, but no.” She go up and walked to the window. The clouds were thick and gray, the first snow of the season was coming. “I don’t think I want to know. If he is with someone else then it is my fault.”

 

“How is it your fault?” Lucius joined her by the window only the weather was the last thing on his mind. How could she think she would be at fault if her husband were sleeping with someone else?

 

“Because…I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation for us to have.” She hedged.

 

“I thought we were friends? You can talk to me about anything.” He said, laying his hand on her shoulder.

 

“I haven’t let him touch me since Oliver was born.” Her voice was light and reedy. “I tried…but it felt wrong, I felt numb and I pushed him away. I think that maybe when I lost Oliver I lost that part of me that feels passion and desire. I can’t blame him for turning elsewhere when he has a frigid wife at home who cries when he touches her.”

 

Lucius was torn between pumping his fist in the air and rejoicing that she wasn’t sleeping with her husband and reaching out for her to comfort her. Neither would be appropriate given the circumstances. He wondered what Weasley had said to her, if anything, to make her feel as though something were wrong with her. 

 

“I doubt you are frigid.” He said, smirking a little. “Trust me, I know about frigid.” 

 

“I just couldn’t. I have loved him all my life, always welcomed his touch before….but this time I felt nothing. I was just completely numb and still, I was going to continue….then it changed, I felt suffocated and…violated. I never felt that before, ever.” She looked over at Lucius and instantly she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this with you. You can’t possibly understand.”

 

“Oh, you would be surprised.” He chuckled. “Intimacy issues aren’t exclusive to you, my dear. Would it surprise you to learn that I have never been unfaithful to my wife in thirty years of marriage?”

 

Hermione pondered his question for a moment. She had to separate what she thought she knew of him before from what he actually knew of him now in order to answer that question. 

 

“No, it doesn’t surprise me.” She said.

 

“Kissing you...well that was the first taste of another’s lips I have had in decade.” He was staring at her lips as he spoke and she licked them involuntarily. “Narcissa was never particularly…amorous, but she loved me and I loved her and what we had was enough. After Draco was born it slowed down even more and then after the war…well, I have been allowed in her bed only once per month for the last several years and she kept the intimacy limited. I have not accepted her offer in nearly three months. It isn’t worth it when there is no love, no warmth, no desire.” 

 

“What if I never find myself again? What if I live the rest of my life without passion? What if I can never be a proper wife again?” She asked.

 

“He doesn’t deserve you.” His voice was deep and quiet as he spoke. “If he has found another then he is even more of a fool that I already know him to be. He has the most amazing woman waiting at home for him every night and he can’t see it.”

 

“Lucius…” She whimpered his name and it was like a spell wrapped itself around him and drew him forward until only a scant inch separated them. The hand that had been resting lightly on her shoulder slid around to the back of her neck and held firmly, tilting her head back so that she had to look him in the eyes. His other arm slid around her waist, pulling her lower body flush against his. She gasped audibly and her hands gripped his biceps because she didn’t know what else to do as heat began to flow through her veins uncontrollably.

 

“He has no idea. Why can’t he see what I see?” He whispered, his brows furrowed as though his own thoughts were confusing him. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Lucius…please.” Was she pleading for him to stop, or for him to continue? She didn’t know. On one hand she knew that being in his arms was wrong and she should get away fast but oh, the heat, the need, the throbbing ache that was settling low in her stomach held her rooted to the spot.

 

“I’m trying, Hermione. I’m trying to fight it but I am losing.” His words were soft and raspy just before his lips closed over hers. This time it was no fairy soft brush of his lips. This time he took, he tasted, he claimed. His lips slid over hers firmly, his teeth nipping lightly and his tongue urging her mouth to open. She moaned, an agonized sound that parted her lips and let his tongue inside. Her hands slid up from his biceps to his shoulders, then burrowed into his hair as her resistance crumbled and she kissed him back. 

 

He held her even tighter when he felt her tongue slide alongside his and then into his mouth. She kissed him back with a bruising passion that he had not felt since….he couldn’t remember if it had ever been like this before with anyone. She moaned into his mouth, sucking gently on his bottom lip as she hooked her thigh over his hip trying to get closer to him. 

 

The hand at her back slid down, curving over the round curve of her bottom and pressing her hips tight against the arousal that was painfully pressing against his zipper. He wanted her, more than he could ever recall wanting another, but he didn’t just want her beneath him, he wanted her to want him, to need him. 

 

The kiss slowed, the passion turning tender as they eased their lips apart. They rested their foreheads together, their panting breaths mingled as they struggled to settle their pulses. The hands fisted in his hair relaxed their hold and began smoothing the long tresses with gentle fingers. 

 

“What is this between us?” She whispered. “Why is this happening?”

 

“I don’t know, I know it’s wrong but when I hold you, when I kiss you, when I am simply in the same room with you, it feels so right.” He whispered.

 

“Lucius….we need to talk.”


	12. Suspicious Minds

****

**Chapter Twelve: Suspicious Minds**

_**We are always paid for our suspicion by finding what we suspect. – Henry David Thoreau** _

 

“Talk….right, we need to talk.” Lucius said, raking his fingers through his hair agitatedly.

 

“Yes…over there….you go behind your desk and I will sit in the chair.” She said. “We need something between us.”

 

“You think it will stop this? A piece of furniture between us?” He asked, doing as directed and sitting gingerly in his chair, his erection painfully uncomfortable.

 

“It has to. Lucius, we can’t do this…it’s wrong!” She said, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot.

 

“It isn’t like I planned for this to happen.” He said, resting his elbows on his desk and burying his face in his hands. He shook his head slowly back and forth, his mind racing in a million directions and none of them appropriate. 

 

“I believe you. I don’t think either of us were expecting it. But we have to do something about it, we can’t continue…kissing…I have a husband and you have a wife.” She said, not daring to look him in the eyes because she feared she would come around the desk and crawl into his lap. She hadn’t felt desire like that in ages, maybe never. It felt as though she were burning up from the inside out.

 

“If that is what you want to call them. Seems like they are more like flat mates with whom we share a name and a past with.” He grumbled.

 

“But we made commitments to them. We can not let this…”

 

“Attraction?” He offered.

 

“Yes…attraction, get away from us. No more kissing, Lucius.” She said.

 

“What if we can’t help it?” So far he had kissed her twice and both times he had been unable to stop himself, it had just happened.

 

“We have to.” She said. “Lucius, I like being here, I like being with you and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to go back to sitting in that house all alone every day and I want to see this project through, but you and I have to keep our friendship platonic.”

 

“I didn’t intend for it to move out of platonic, it just happened.” He said.

 

“Lucius…”

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Lucius and Hermione both turned towards the door and stared at Draco as he leaned against the doorframe.

 

“Draco, did we have an appointment I forgot about?” Lucius asked frowning at his offspring.

 

“No. What are you doing here, Granger, and why are you calling my father ‘Lucius’?” He asked.

 

“She is here seeing to the refurbishing of my library and I _asked_ her to call me by name.” Lucius said before Hermione could answer. “You, however, have yet to answer my question. What are you doing here, Draco?” 

 

“Mother called me. She wants me to have a talk with you.” Draco said, his attention on Hermione. Her body language was curious. She was fidgeting and avoiding eye contact, almost as though she were guilty of something. 

 

“You could have owled first. I was occupied as you can plainly see.” Lucius said, indicating Hermione.

 

“Occupied, eh? Just how were you occupied with the mudblood, Father?” Draco sneered. “Get back to work, Granger, I need to speak to my father without your ears listening.”

 

Hermione gasped and Lucius was on his feet in an instant and coming around his desk.

 

“Do not dare to come into my house and mistreat an associate of mine, Draco, you have no right!” Lucius roared. “Hermione isn’t just someone who is doing a job for me, she has become a friend and I do not appreciate your rude, disgusting behavior. Now apologize to my friend.”

 

“Your friend? Granger? You are actually claiming a mudblood as a friend? Oh that’s just bloody brilliant! Mother is right, you really have lost your bloody mind!” Draco scoffed. 

 

“Apologize to my friend or you and I have nothing to discuss and you can tell your mother that her little game was all for naught because you were being a brat.” Lucius was tired of Draco being used as a weapon against him by Narcissa. Whenever things weren’t going her way she would bring Draco into it to guilt him into complying.

 

“Forgive my rudeness, Granger. It is very important that I speak with my father, would you please excuse us?” His politeness was clearly forced but Hermione got a little bit of a thrill at watching his father take him down a notch. 

 

“No problem.” She said, rising from her chair. “I will see you in a few days, Lucius, I have an appointment tomorrow.” 

 

“Do you want me to see you home?” he asked softly, coming to stand near her. 

 

“Not a good idea.” She said, wanting so badly to trace his lips with her fingertips. 

 

“Hermione….if you need me….”

 

“I know. Go talk to your son, Lucius.” He could see emotion swirling in her eyes and knew that it matched his own. She walked through the library doors and closed them behind her. Lucius stared at the closed doors for several moments before turning to face Draco.

 

“What is going on with you two?” Draco asked, a suspicious look on his face.

 

“Nothing that concerns you. She is having a rough time of things, her child died a year ago, she is still grieving.” He said, settling in behind his desk.

 

“And _you_ are comforting her? Please, you don’t know the first thing about grief.” Draco rolled his eyes.

 

“I know more than you can possibly imagine.” Lucius said quietly. “My friendship with Hermione is not pertinent here, what does your mother send you for now?”

 

“She said you have a mistress.” Draco said. “She doesn’t like it.”

 

“I do NOT have a mistress and even if I did I certainly wouldn’t be discussing my sex life with my son.” Lucius said tightly.

 

“She said you don’t talk to her or buy her things or give her extra pocket money anymore. She said you refuse to…erm…”Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “…she said you refused to come to her rooms.”

 

“Oh dear god, your mother told you about that?” Lucius couldn’t believe that Narcissa would impart such information to their son. 

 

“She was upset, trust me, I don’t want to know.” Draco said, shaking his head as though trying to shake the images out of it.

 

“I am tired of being treated like the cause of the world’s problems, Draco. I made mistakes and I have atoned again and again. I have gone out of my way seeking her forgiveness and still she withholds it. I will not beg or cower any longer. If it makes her unhappy I am sorry, but it is just how it is. As for not coming to her room…well I just don’t want to.” Lucius said.

 

“So there is no mistress?” Draco asked.

 

“No.” _But there is someone who makes me feel like a man._ He thought.

 

“And Granger?” Draco saw the exchange between them, the way they looked at each other. He knew… _knew_ that there was something else going on. 

 

“She is my friend and a business associate. That is all you need to concern yourself with.” He said.

 

“Fine…..oh, and mother wanted me to tell you not to come to the dinner table after playing with your dogs.” Draco said, getting up from the chair.

 

“Sometimes I would rather have dinner with my dogs.” Lucius sighed, shaking his head. 

 

“Is it that bad, Father? Are you so unhappy?” Draco asked quietly, thinking he had never seen his father look quite so…broken. 

 

“The grief of the parents should never be rested upon a child, Draco.” 

 

“But I am no longer a child, I understand far more than you may think. I…I do love you and I want you to be happy.” Draco said, hoping his father would not see his admission as weakness.

 

“I love you too, Draco. I am sorry I didn’t tell you that more.” He said.

 

“I always knew.” Draco smiled. “I will try to calm Mother down.”

 

“Good luck with that.” Lucius said, watching his son walk away wishing he had been a better father to the boy. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his hands folded over his abdomen as he closed his eyes and thought about the witch who had just left him. Her taste still lingered in his mouth.


	13. On My Day Off

****

**Chapter Thirteen: On My Day Off**

_**We need others. We need others to love and we need to be loved by them. There is no doubt that without it, we too, like the infant left alone, would cease to grow, cease to develop, choose madness and even death.” - Leo F. Buscaglia** _

 

Hermione was tired. Not just the regular sort of tired that comes at the end of a busy day, but the bone deep, mentally draining kind of tired that comes when life has just beaten you to a pulp and left you to die. It was a dramatic train of thought, but it was how she felt. She had been home for four days, most of it alone, she needed to put a little distance between her and Lucius. Ron had stumbled in early on Sunday morning, just in time to shower and change for their weekly breakfast with his family. 

 

He put on the happy face for his parents and siblings, pretending all was well, laughing at their jokes and joining the cheering for the Quidditch game on the wireless telly. Hermione refused to pretend so she remained quiet, sitting in a corner with a book she wasn’t paying attention to. She hadn’t paid attention to much for days if she was being honest. She could think of nothing but Lucius, the way it felt to be in his arms, to have his lips moving over hers, tasting her, arousing her. Why hadn’t she felt that way when Ron had tried to make love to her?

 

After their required time with the Weasley clan Ron had surprised her with a desire to go to Diagon Alley. He was in need of a new broom and the standard issue brooms in the department weren’t up to his standards. So while he wandered about the Quidditch outfitters looking for a new broom she lost herself deep within the stacks of Flourish and Blotts.

 

She breathed in the scent of the written word and happily explored their stock. She was at home among books; there was safety there for her, comfort. She was happiest when she had a book in her hand. She ran her fingertips along the shelves, occasionally pulling a book from its place for a look over. It was relaxing between the shelves in the quiet, upper floor of the shop. 

 

Or it was until she rounded a shelf and found her face planted in the center of a strong male chest. She didn’t need to look up to recognize who it was; his scent was all it took. She closed her eyes when his hands rested on her waist and hers came up to lay flat against his abdomen. 

 

“Lucius, what are you doing here?” She asked quietly, slowly raising her head to meet his gaze.

 

“I needed to get out of the house and decided to look for something new to read.” He pulled her close, his hands caressing the gentle curve of her hips beneath her robes. “I saw you come in.”

 

“You have a library filled with books, why are you buying new?” She wished it didn’t feel so good to be pressed against him, to have his large, comforting hands on her body. 

 

“I can’t find a thing in there; it’s why I needed you in the first place.” He said, one hand coming up to touch her cheek lightly. “Now I need you, period.”

 

“We can’t….we shouldn’t even be this close to each other.” She said though it didn’t stop her from sliding her hand up his chest to feel his heart pounding against her palm. 

 

“I told you it was out of our control.” He said huskily. “Tell me you are coming back tomorrow. I have been miserable without you there.”

 

“I’ll be back tomorrow, but Lucius…we can’t…this has to stop.” She said, tilting her head slightly to the side as he pressed his nose against her throat and inhaled her soft, flowery scent.

 

“Hermione!” She stiffened instantly when she heard Ron’s voice distantly calling her name.

 

“Lucius, let me go!” She said, panicking. He held her tighter, his hand coming round to grip her chin.

 

“Tell me that I am not alone? I swear to god I am going mad thinking about you…tell me that you are too.” He said, the arm around her waist like a vise.

 

“Lucius, please! Ron is coming, if he finds us….”

 

“I have nothing to fear from the Weasley _boy_ , tell me, Hermione.” He demanded. She heard her name being called again, closer this time. She stared into Lucius’s bright silver eyes and felt the pull low in her belly. 

 

“No…you aren’t alone, Lucius. I feel it….I think about you too….but it’s wrong….how many times do I have to say that!” She was wriggling in his arms, trying to break free.

 

“I know it’s wrong! Regardless of what my past may indicate I know the difference between right and wrong but I also know that this is different….this _feels_ different. Tell me that you believe me when I say that this…what I feel when I am with you, is different. Tell me that it is different for you too.” He whispered, his touch on her face softening. She stopped struggling and closed her eyes, denying him was futile and the truth was, she was a terrible liar. 

 

“It is different, Lucius. But it doesn’t make it right.” She said sadly. Ron called out for her again, this time he was very, very close by. “You have to let me go before he finds us, Lucius.” 

 

“This isn’t finished.” He said, disillusioning himself and stepping behind her just as Ron rounded the corner. 

 

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” He asked, frowning. She could see that he carried a parcel wrapped in brown paper; clearly he had purchased a new broom. 

 

“I was distracted. You bought a broom?” She felt Lucius behind her and she put her hands behind her back and tried to shoo him away. He clasped her wrist and gently pried open her fist one finger at a time. 

 

“Yeah, with all the over time I have been clocking I thought it alright to splurge on the newest Firebolt.” Despite having just made a major purchase that should have pleased him, Ron still looked haunted and sad. 

 

“Over time, right.” Hermione felt the light tracing of Lucius’s fingertip on her palm and the warm trail of magic as he marked her then curled her fingers around it. She felt his absence as he moved away from her and she sighed in relief.

 

“No books?” He asked, noticing her empty basket at her feet.

 

“No, not this visit. Lucius has given me permission to borrow what I like from his collection and so far I haven’t found anything in here that interests me enough to purchase.” She shrugged.

 

“Oh…well hurry up then so I can take you home.” He said.

 

“Do you have plans tonight?” She asked.

 

“Yeah, work. I’ll be late so…”

 

“Don’t wait up, I know.” She said softly.

 

“Yeah, I’ll wait outside.” He wondered when it had gotten to the point that she couldn’t even look at him. She was always staring at the floor or the ceiling or some spot over his shoulder, never at him. 

 

“There is no need. I am finished here.” Ron escorted her home, dropping her at the door before disappearing without even stepping foot inside their home. She fought the anger and frustration as she realized he was clearly lying to her about where he was going. It was a mess, a giant tangle that continued to pull tighter and tighter. 

 

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the taps, the cast iron, Victorian tub filling with steamy hot water and foamy suds from the soothing cinnamon bubble bath she had added. She went to her bedroom for her robe and a book, undressing before she returned to the bathroom and stepped into the tub, sinking slowly into the comfort of the bath. With a sigh she opened the book she had brought from Lucius’s library, _Lady Chatterley’s Lover_. 

 

She had never read it, though she knew of it. She relaxed and soon found herself lost in the pages. Oh how she could relate to Lady Chatterley, the loneliness, the helplessness. In her mind she saw the story play out clearly, her and Ron as Lord and Lady Chatterley, Lucius as the handsome, sexy gamekeeper who became her lover. 

 

She was nearly halfway through when her palm began to tingle. She laid the book aside and stared down at her hand. She saw nothing until she ran her fingertip over the tingly skin and the shape of a heart glowed lightly in the center. He had traced it there, disillusioned behind her in the dim stacks of the bookshop while she spoke with her husband. He had spelled it so that she would never forget.

 

He made it so difficult to do what she knew was right. Perhaps the _right_ thing to do would be to quit working for him, put distance between them but she was selfish. Working on his library made her happy and fulfilled without the pressures of a _real_ job. And she would be a liar if she said that she wasn’t getting a bit of a thrill out of what was occurring between them.

 

She closed her eyes again and settled back into the warm water. She would have to get out soon, she was already pruning, but the hot water was so pleasant, her body relaxed and languid. A droplet of water ran down her throat and over the upper swell of her breast. She traced it with her fingers and was shocked to feel her skin prickle with awareness. Her fingernails dragged lightly over her skin, tickling, tantalizing. Down her throat and over the tops of her breasts her fingers traveled, slipping between the ripe mounds and beneath them to the sensitive crease below. 

 

She cupped her breast in her hand and squeezed gently, moaning at the pleasure that shot through her at her own touch before squeezing harder. She tried to imagine the last time she had made love and enjoyed it but the memory did nothing for her. Biting her lip she began to create a fantasy in her head, only her husband wasn’t the star, it was Lucius. Immediately heat pooled between her thighs that had nothing to do with the bath. 

 

Her nipples tightened to aching peaks. She brushed her thumbs over them and a jolt of electricity shot through the rock hard tips. Her fingers pinched, rolled and pulled on her nipples until she was moaning and writhing in the tub. It had been so long since she had felt the heat of arousal, the desire for sexual release that she wanted to enjoy it, to savor it. 

 

While one hand continued to manipulate her painfully erect nipples her other hand, the marked hand, slid slowly down her belly beneath the water, tunneling into the neat patch of hair crowning her sex and lower between the swollen folds now slippery with her own lubrication. She actually cried out when her finger brushed over the burgeoning bud of her clit, the sound of her own voice startling her for a moment. Over and over she stroked the tight, achy little protrusion, feeling the tension and painful need swell inside her. She propped her feet on the sides of the tub, spreading her legs wide as she fingered her long neglected sex. 

 

“Oh god…” She muttered arching into her fingers as her orgasm approached, her thighs quivering with anticipation and her body tightening. She was unable to contain the hoarse shout that left her lips as she was lost in the sensation of release. Her pussy pulsed beneath her fingertips as she continued to stroke and circle her fingers over the hot, clutching flesh until she nearly slid beneath the surface of the water. 

 

Still shaking she dragged herself out of the tub. Her head was swimming from the release, she was too dizzy to dry herself or slip into her robe, she stumbled through the doorway and into her bedroom, falling onto the mattress with a groan as her body continued to throb in the aftermath. Had it really been a year since she had felt the mindless pleasure of an orgasm? Had she ever felt it as keenly as she did while fantasizing about a man she shouldn’t? 

 

She couldn’t fight the blackness as it swarmed over her, pulling her into its decadent arms and lulling her into oblivion. Her dreams an erotic montage of what could be if she would only give in to her own desires.

 

****

**~@~**

Lucius paced…no, he prowled the length of his bedchamber like a predator aching for a hunt. He was barefoot, wearing only his trousers and an unbuttoned white shirt, distracted from his preparations for bed by thoughts of _her_. Without him noticing, the brilliant little mudblood had gotten under his skin. She was in his every thought, causing his head to ache from her presence. No one else had managed that in all his years, not even his wife and he had been deeply in love with her in the beginning.

 

He had been tempted more than once in the past. It was hard not to be when the Dark Lord paraded naked women in front of his death eaters like a smorgasbord of carnal delights. Female deatheaters were notoriously promiscuous, often turning revels into orgies. Beautiful women had offered to service him in any number of ways and he had considered it from time to time but something in him kept him true to his wife. 

 

He was somewhat of an oddity amongst wealthy pureblood males, married and single alike in that he did not keep a steady mistress. Hell even his own son had a sweet little witch tucked up in a small townhouse near Hyde Park. His sister in law had made passes at him and while she had been certifiably insane the Dark Lord had sworn that a better lay could not be had in all of England. 

 

Yet not once had the consideration been more than fleeting, at least not before her. What made her different? What made him want her so? She was everything he once hated, muggleborn, bold, associated with Potter, better than his son in every subject. Now she was everything he wanted and it made no sense. 

 

She was married, so was he, she was nowhere near as beautiful as his wife, she was too intelligent for her own good but she was also kind, forgiving, real and open, loving. He shook his head and stopped by his window to look out at the barren winter landscape. His fingertips began to tingle and he knew she had realized that he had marked her with his magic.

 

He smirked softly, wondering what her reaction was. He closed his eyes and called on his magic; using the tenuous bond he had formed with her by marking her palm to discern her feelings. The moment he connected with that faint thread of magic connecting them he stumbled beneath the wave of sexual arousal that swamped him. He braced his hand against the edge of his bureau, hanging on to the connection and trying to dig just a little deeper, his fingertips burning as he curled them into his palm. He smiled in relief, she wasn’t having sex with her husband as he had originally feared, she was masturbating….and thinking of him while she did it.

 

He let go of the connection, satisfied with her mental state. He opened his eyes and exhaled long and slow. He rubbed his aching cock through the material of his trousers, wishing he possessed strong enough magic to let him actually see what she was doing and thinking instead of only feeling it. 

 

He went to his bed and reclined against the pillows. He used the fingers of his left hand, tingling still from their connection to stroke his chest, running his fingers through the sparse, silky hair on his chest. He fingered his nipples lightly imagining it was her dainty fingers teasing him. Down over his abdomen his fingers moved, following the line of golden hair from his navel to the buttons on his trousers. 

 

He groaned when he unbuttoned his fly and released his turgid length to the cool air of the room. He hurt. He couldn’t remember ever being so hard in his life. His hand delved low to fondle his balls, rolling them in his hand as he began to lightly stroke his shaft with the tips of his fingers. He drew back his foreskin and teased the sensitive tip, spreading the thick, cloudy fluid oozing from the slit over the crown. In his head it was her cool, soft fingers handling his stones while her tongue laved his tip. 

 

He reached into his nightstand for a bottle of unscented massage oil and poured it into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it before returning them to his sac and shaft. He gripped his cock firmly in his fist, rolling his balls gently as he began stroking slowly from base to tip and back again. His foreskin sliding over the head with every pass and stimulating him more. In his head she was spread out on a bed of roses, her face flushed and her lips parted. Her thighs spread wide as he shafted her tight, wet pussy with long, deliberate strokes that had her crying his name. 

 

His stones drew up tight and began to pulse as the burning desire to come rolled through him. He tightened his grip, quickened his strokes, arching into his hands as though thrusting into her body until he nearly jackknifed with the intensity of his orgasm. Streams of white, sticky cum shot forcefully from the tip of his ruddy cock to land on his stomach and soil his trousers. He gasped, falling back onto the pillows with his chest heaving and his slowly deflating cock twitching and pulsing against his belly. 

 

He hadn’t come so hard in ages, his balls ached from the force of it and his strength was sapped. He couldn’t even muster the strength to clean his seed from his flesh as his eyelids drooped and then fluttered closed, oblivion claiming the sated wizard and thrusting him into a world where happiness was his in the form of a bushy haired little witch.

 

~*~*~*~*~**~***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	14. Too Lonely for Too Long

****

**Chapter Fourteen: Too Lonely for Too Long**

**_How helpless we are, like netted birds, when we are caught by desire! - Belva Plain_ **

 

Lucius winced when he heard another bang and a curse coming from the library. Hermione had been back at work for a couple of days and she was deliberately keeping Lucius at a physical distance. She made sure that his desk or some other piece of furniture was between them at all times and she refused to speak of their _situation_ at all, immediately changing the subject if he came anywhere near it. 

 

Once more the sound of banging could be heard, along with a muffled curse. She had come in angry that morning and he had thought it best to make himself scarce. She didn’t mention what was bothering her over lunch and as he looked at the clock above the mantle he could see that it was well past the time that she usually left and he wondered why she was still working.

 

“God damn it!” Lucius couldn’t ignore her cursing any longer. He stood and walked around his desk, slowly edging towards the half open door of the library. He watched as she stepped down off of a small stool, book in hand, and jotted the details of it onto her ever lengthening scroll. She set the book aside and then kicked the stool a little more to the left with a foot protected only by her stockings, her sensible black heels lying on the floor near the sofa. As the stool banged into the baseboard he realized the origins of the banging he had heard all day.

 

“Stupid, idiotic, selfish….God damn it!” She was mumbling to herself, swearing intermittently which was something he wasn’t used to hearing from her.

 

“Hermione, are you alright in here?” Lucius asked, stepping into the room. She sighed and let her hand slide from the book she was reaching for to hand limply at her side. She glanced over her shoulder and immediately wished she hadn’t.

 

He was rumpled from a long day of frustrating calculations and budgeting, his jacket was long gone, his waistcoat undone, several buttons were undone on his shirt and his hair was a bit mussed because when he was particularly stressed he had a tendency to tug at the strands at his temples. She was sometimes amazed at the little things she picked up on about him, small, personal things like the fact that he over sweetened his tea and nibbled from a box of chocolates he kept hidden in his top drawer throughout the day. Things that humanized a man she once believed to be pure evil. 

 

“Not really.” She said stepping down from the stool and walking across the room to the large windows. It was growing dark and snow was swirling wildly outside as a storm blew in. “I’m surprised you held out this long if I am honest.”

 

“I am trying to respect your personal space, though do not think for one moment that it is easy.” He said, joining her at the window. “What is bothering you?”

 

“Ron hasn’t been home for three days.” She said quietly. 

 

“Have you contacted the ministry?” He asked.

 

“Oh, he’s well enough; I receive the daily owl from him.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s not working, he’s lying and Harry is being evasive about it all. He’s probably holed up in a room somewhere with whomever it is that is tending to his needs.”

 

“I can find him for you, if you want him I will have him brought to you.” He could have it done easily enough; even have him roughed up a little in the process. 

 

“No, thank you though.” She said, smiling over at him. “Why do you listen to me go on and on about this?”

 

“Because I like to hear the sound of your voice, it matters not what you are saying.” He said.

 

“You are a good man.” She reached out and took his hand in hers, wrapping her delicate little fingers around his much larger ones.

 

“No, I am not.” He said, bringing her hand up to his mouth and closing his eyes as he brushed his lips back and forth over her knuckles. “If I were a good man I would not look at you and wish that you were mine. I would not be pleased to know that you sleep alone at night.”

 

“Lucius.” She swallowed hard and stepped forward without realizing she was moving closer to him. He laid her hand against his cheek, pressing it to the stubble roughened surface. She felt the tingle in her palm, that thin thread of magic that flowed between them. She _felt_ him flow through her, not the cold, numb void that had been her existence for so long, but a warm, vibrant desire to be closer to him.

 

“I can’t be near you and not want to touch you. Tell me why. Why you? Why now?” He wasn’t as strong as he appeared; denying himself that which he desired was a foreign concept to Lucius. As wrong as it was, he didn’t want to deny himself this bit of happiness. 

 

“I don’t know why.” She said, moving closer. With every step she felt as though she were walking into the sea. Deeper and deeper she moved until the undertow caught her and pulled her feet right out from under her. She didn’t fight it, she was tired of fighting, she closed her eyes and let the current carry her away. She slid her hand from his cheek and into his hair.

 

“Step over the line you drew and there is no going back.” He whispered, his eyes hooded and dark. She took another step closer, her body flush against his as her arms looped around his neck.

 

“I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of being alone and I am tired of not feeling anything, I feel when I am with you…you make me feel. I need you.” She whispered. 

 

Lucius pulled her close to him with one arm and waved his hand towards the door of the library. It slammed closed and the skeleton key turned in the lock. Wards shimmered over the door’s surface and the fire in the hearth leapt to life.

 

“No wand.” She gasped, stunned at the extent of his abilities.

 

“My house, my magic.” He bent down and lifted her into his arms. “My salvation.” He carried her across the room, the rug in front of the fire transfiguring into a plush, padded satin surface for their comfort. Their eyes never wavered as he went to one knee and laid her down gently. She wouldn’t release her hold on his neck, pulling him down with her and lifting her head so that their mouths met. 

 

It was like tinder catching a flame the moment he tasted her. Suddenly nothing else in the world existed for him but her. He kicked off his shoes, thankful he wasn’t wearing any with ties. She pulled at him with greedy hands, tugging him over her and spreading her thighs wide to receive him between them.

 

The kiss wasn’t just passionate, it bordered on violent. They bit, sucked and licked at each others mouth with a hunger that went beyond simple lust. Need was the driving force between them, the need to be touched, the need to feel, the need to be desired by another. Her hands weren’t gentle as they shoved his waist coat off. It caught on his arms for a moment before he shifted, casting it off without ever releasing her lips. 

 

His shirt was next. Frantic fingers plucked at the buttons and tugged at the fabric, pulling it from the waist of his trousers. She groaned in frustration as she fumbled with the last buttons, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip in triumph when she finally managed to get her hands inside and on his skin. 

 

“Touch me.” She pleaded, arching against him. The tiny pearl buttons on her blouse gave way beneath his fingers and he pushed the silk garment out of his way. Her breasts were encased in delicate white lace, the creamy flesh plumping over the top of the cups deliciously. “Lucius…please.” 

 

He tucked his finger between her breasts and gave the bra a downward tug, the lace sliding lower until the cups were lodged beneath her breasts and the deep rose peaks of her nipples were bare to him. 

 

“Beautiful.” He murmured as he cupped her, running his thumb over the nipple and watching it tighten further. He ran his tongue over the puckered little bud and she arched her back, pinching his nipple in answer. His tongue circled, flicked and twined around her nipple as she toyed with his, encouraging him. 

 

She was so responsive, moaning and writhing beneath him, not content with simply letting him touch her, she had to reciprocate. He captured her nipple between his teeth, lightly raking them over it before sucking it hard into his mouth. 

 

“More…suck me harder.” She groaned, arching her back and pressing her breast more tightly into his mouth. He released her with a wet popping sound and turned his attention to the other nipple, abusing it the same way and earning the same eager response. Soft hands slid from his chest down his stomach and then over the column of flesh still covered by his trousers. She traced the length of him with her fingers, squeezing him and rubbing her palm against him. 

Her slim fitting black skirt was bunched at her thighs and he began to pull it up higher. She lifted her bottom, grinding her pelvis into his erection as she did, so he could bunch it at her waist. Simple white lace hugged her hips, a stark contrast to the black stockings that clung to her thighs. He didn’t take the time to admire the simple beauty of what she was wearing; he needed the barrier between them gone. He lifted off of her long enough to slide the knickers down her thighs and off before moving back over her, his fingers delving between her legs to test her readiness.

 

He ruffled the soft patch of curls covering her mound and then slid his fingers lower to the smooth, plump lips that were flowering open in anticipation of his touch. Hot, slick liquid bathed his fingertips as they danced over the delicate, nerve rich flesh. Her clit was tight, swollen and pulsing as he strummed it gently. 

 

She was on fire. She could hear her blood rushing in her veins. Every nerve in her body seemed to be in hyper mode. His touch shouldn’t feel so good, it shouldn’t be so intense. Her body had never come alive so quickly, so fiercely before. With every touch the thread of magic connecting them grew stronger and she could feel his desire mingling with hers until it was just one, blazing ball of need threatening to consume them. 

 

She fumbled with his belt and the buttons on his trousers, the placket of his fly proving a challenge to her questing fingers. She whimpered when the buckle finally slid free and her hands shook with need as she worked on his buttons. Apparently she was moving too slowly because he removed his fingers from her pussy and jerked open his trousers, the buttons bouncing off her inner thighs.

 

He shoved them down roughly, assisted by her impatient little hands until she could grab his arse in both hands and pull him to her. He reached between them, grasping his cock in his fist to steady himself as he pressed the tip against her wet entrance and thrust home in one solid stroke. His guttural “ungh” was accompanied by her high pitched keen as he joined their bodies. 

 

Stocking clad thighs came up to hug his hips, her fingers digging into the muscled curve of his ass as he began to thrust, rock and grind his cock into her. No matter how he switched up the angle of his penetration he just couldn’t get deep enough. He needed to be a part of her, to merge not only with her body but with her heart, her soul. Control was just a memory as they moved together, sweaty, half clothed bodies straining against each other in a desperate drive towards release. 

 

It was like nothing either of them had ever experienced. So raw, animalistic and so pure that it was almost unbearable. Hermione had never felt so full; she felt impaled, possessed, as though with the piercing of her body he had claimed her in some elemental way that would leave her forever changed. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him yet it almost seemed too much. 

 

Lucius pushed himself up, balancing his weight on extended arms as he increased the tempo and strength of his thrusts. Over and over he withdrew to the tip only to plunge back into the fiery depths of her body. It had never been so intense, not even his first time had moved him so deeply. She was so tight, so hot and so slick, welcoming his body, his invasion, his possession with pure delight. 

 

Her cries of passion and the sounds of their bodies making contact was a sweet symphony to his ears. How had he lived for so long without this? How had he not missed the sweet sounds of passion, the feel of a willing, responsive body moving in time with his? 

 

“There…right there…don’t…oh….don’t….” Her urgent little pleas were lost as her head thrashed back and forth causing her hair to cling to her perspiring face and throat. He could feel her vagina tightening around him, the tension that stiffened her body. The thighs that clasped his hips began to tremble and her fingers dug deep furrows into his back. Then it was as if something snapped, her body bowed, her neck arched and a scream rent the air. 

 

“Bloody hell…..ahhhhhhhh!” The silken glove of her sheathe clamped down hard around his cock, holding him tight within her as she began to pulse around him, each tight, undulating contraction of her muscles milking, caressing, stroking the length of him until his balls convulsed painfully and he released their offering inside her with a hoarse cry of his own. 

 

He stayed within her until the pulsing stopped, then withdrew with a groan from both of them as their over sensitized flesh protested the friction. He relaxed on top of her, his head nestled against her breasts, his torso resting in the cradle of her hips. Their clothing was mussed, their bodies shimmering with a fine sheen of perspiration now cooling them as their breathing slowed to normal. 

 

Hermione ran her fingers through his hair as he stared into the fire. They had crossed the line and become lovers. No matter that it was the most incredible, satisfying sexual experience either could remember, it was still wrong.

 

“Oh, Lucius. What have we done?” She whispered, closing her eyes and letting the tears come as Lucius said nothing. He simply held her tighter and tried to find the guilt he was sure he should feel.


	15. Never Again

****

**Chapter Fifteen: Never Again**

**_If what I feel for him is so wrong, someone please tell me why in the hell it feels so damned right? – Anonymous_ **

 

It was quiet in the library as the lovers lay in one another’s arms. There was guilt there, but not as much as one would expect. It was almost as though they felt it because it was what was expected of them, not out of any remorse for what had transpired between them. 

 

“What have we done?” She asked softly, her fingers idly stroking his hair. 

 

“What was inevitable and can not be undone.” He answered, turning his face into her skin and kissing the center of her chest where her heart beat. He had never been more content in his entire life and for that he felt the first stirrings of guilt. 

 

“Do you regret it?” She asked, looked down at the man with his chin resting against her sternum. He looked pensive for a moment then shook his head slowly.

 

“No, I don’t regret it. Do you?” He looked almost afraid of her answer.

 

“No, I don’t regret it, but it doesn’t change the fact that what we did…we were so wrong.” She said, nudging him away from her. He rolled onto his back and she sat up, shoving her skirt down over her thighs and readjusting her bra. 

 

“It didn’t feel wrong.” He said, pulling his trousers up over his hips and doing up the buttons. 

 

“We can never do this again, Lucius.” Her fingers were shaking as she re-fastened her blouse. She heard his mocking laughter and turned to him with a frown.

 

“Do you really think we aren’t going to want this again? It was incredible, Hermione, not the kind of thing people find everyday and we are most certainly going to want to feel that again. Hell I already want to do it again.” He said as he got to his feet and helped her to stand. “This won’t go away, not now.”

 

“It has to.” She tucked her blouse into her skirt and winced when she felt the warm trickle of his seed on her thighs. “Where is my underwear?”

 

“I think I tossed them into the fire.” Lucius said as he glanced over at the fireplace, vaguely recalling that they were in his way and therefore they were to be destroyed. “You know I am right, Hermione.”

 

“No matter what we feel we can’t do this!” She snapped, trying to gather her tangled hair into a bun. “We can’t just go around doing what feels good whenever we want!”

 

“Why in the hell not?” He didn’t bother to do up his shirt; he wanted her to see the marks on his chest from her nails, the bruise on his neck from her teeth. 

 

“Because we aren’t the only people to consider! We are _married_ to other people!” Her voice was rising steadily.

 

“Why should we consider their feelings when neither of them takes ours into consideration?” Lucius didn’t shout, but he didn’t need to. His voice could take on a vehement edge that could cut like a blade.

 

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” She found herself back in his arms, held tight against him as he looked into her eyes.

 

“The right thing to do? You want me to believe that the right thing is for us to be miserable? To continue to live in misery with them and ignore what we feel?” He wanted her again and he wasn’t about to let her walk away from him, not after what they had just experienced. 

 

“Yes, because we spoke vows to them. We promised to be true them and look at us? We are adulterers.” She felt his hands biting into her lower back. 

 

“I’ve been called worse, believe me. If what we have between us is sinful then set up my spot in hell because I will not feel bad for what just happened. It was without a doubt the most incredible experience of my life.” He said fiercely. “Look me in the eyes and tell me it wasn’t the same for you!”

 

He grasped her chin and turned her to face him. Tears shimmered in her eyes but he could see the truth. 

 

“Tell me!”

 

“I can’t….I have never felt anything like it.” She sobbed. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her close so that her head rested on his shoulder. 

 

“Don’t cry. We will figure this out.” He whispered, kissing the top of her head gently.

 

“There is nothing to figure out, Lucius. We belong to other people. We can’t do this.” She said.

 

“We don’t have a choice, it’s already done.” He held her for a long time, stroking her back and trying to offer her comfort. He had missed dinner, no doubt Narcissa was wondering where he was, and he didn’t care. He wished it were as simple as just gathering her up and running away. But she _was_ right, there were others to consider besides themselves though he longed to be selfish. 

 

“I should go.” She said finally, drawing back from the comfort of his arms. “I should probably quit this project, maybe if we take the temptation away these feelings will fade.” 

 

“No, if you go I will follow you. I will knock on your door bold as you please without a second thought.” He threatened. She believed he would do just that if she tried to ignore him.

 

“I need some time, Lucius.” She said, “I never imagined I ever would…ever could be unfaithful to my husband…I don’t know what to do, what to think. I need time to process what has happened.”

 

“How much time?” He didn’t want to be apart from her for longer than was necessary but he understood. He should probably think more deeply on what had happened between them himself. 

 

“I’ll be back after Christmas.” She said softly. “I was due that period off anyhow.” 

 

“Hermione, that’s two weeks!”

 

“Please, Lucius….please….I need to think…..” She stepped out of his arms and put her shoes on, gathering up her bag and cloak. 

 

“I’ll try.” He wouldn’t agree to it because he could already feel her loss and she hadn’t even left him yet. “Come here.” He grabbed her elbow and pulled her back to him, cradling her face in his hands and tilting her head back. “No regrets.” He bent his head and kissed her gently, so tenderly that it brought tears to her eyes. He released her with a reluctant sigh and watched as she disappeared through the hearth. 

 

She stepped out into her living room. The house was dark and empty, just as she expected. She didn’t bother with the lights. She tossed her things into the chair and headed straight for her shower. While the hot water and soap would wash his seed from her body it would not, could not wash away the memory. She closed her eyes, crying softly as she recalled the feel of him deep inside her, the touch of his hands on her body, the mind boggling pleasure achieved by their joining. She cried not because of what she felt, but because she wanted to feel it again. She wanted to be in his arms, to know how it felt to sleep with them wrapped around her. She wanted something that just couldn’t be.

 

She slipped into a nightgown and curled up in the center of her bed facing the window. She could see the snow swirling in the wind and piling up on the windowsill. Her palm began to tingle and she lifted her hand. She ran her fingertip over it and saw the little heart glow faintly and she knew that Lucius was thinking of her.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~


	16. If Loving You is Wrong, I Dont Want to be Right

****

**Chapter 15: If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don’t Want To Be Right**

_**Missing you isn't the problem, it's wondering if you'll ever come back that's killing me. – Anonymous** _

 

Hermione sat curled on her sofa Christmas night all alone. The day had been spent at the Burrow opening gifts and eating way too much food. Then, when dinner was over Ron announced that he needed to go to the office. The look on Harry’s face told her all that she needed to know. Something was going on with Ron and it didn’t involve him working overtime, especially on Christmas. 

 

He dropped her off at home, not even wishing her a Merry Christmas before he was gone. She fixed herself some hot chocolate and curled up to watch Its A Wonderful Life, letting herself get lost in the movie. She probably should have been sad that her husband had left her all alone on Christmas, but she wasn’t. It was just easier with him gone some how. If he was gone then she didn’t have to pretend that she was where she wanted to be.

 

She started when she heard a soft pecking on the kitchen window. She walked through her house, her wand tucked up the sleeve of the sweatshirt she was wearing and opened the little hatch. A small, tawny eagle owl hopped inside and dropped a note card onto the counter then flew away without waiting for a treat. 

 

_Meet me outside._

 

She recognized the elegant scrawl and she couldn’t help the smile on her face. He had come to see her. It had been a week since they gave in to their desires, a week since they had seen each other, spoken or touched. A week that she had been longing for him with every breath she took. She jumped when the letter disintegrated in her hands. He obviously didn’t want Ron finding it. 

 

She went to the front door and poked her head outside but didn’t see him so she trudged back through the house and opened the back door to find him standing on her patio, his leather gloved hands braced on the rail. He was wearing a black leather cloak lined with black fur and a matching hat, he should have looked ridiculous but he didn’t, he looked wonderful. He was smiling at her and she couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“Happy Christmas.” He said.

 

“Happy Christmas, Lucius.” She shivered in the cold night air and took a step back into the house. “I’m alone, come inside.” 

 

“Why are you alone on Christmas?” He asked as he crossed the threshold into her house. The first thing he noticed was that it smelled like cinnamon and chocolate, and then he began to notice the décor. She seemed to like rich, earthy colors and dark woods. Everything in her home seemed bought for comfort, not just for aesthetics or because it was expensive and had the right ‘look’. It was small but warm, cozy and inviting, like her. 

 

“He said he had to work.” She closed the door and turned the lock, activating the wards so she would know if anyone, including her husband was coming into the house. 

 

“On Christmas?” He looked down at her with a raised brow and she rolled her eyes.

 

“I didn’t say that I believed it.” She said softly. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

 

“I performed my part. Sat and watched my materialistic spouse open her annual gift of gaudy, abysmally ugly jewelry wondering why I spend perfectly good galleons on such atrocities. I spent some time with my son who was very grateful for the book you suggested, he loved it. I sat at the head of the table during dinner where I was ignored completely as my wife monopolized the conversation by rambling on and on about how no one threw a better dinner party than she.” He said. “Now I am done playing the part and wish to be myself. I am only that when I am with you.”

 

“Is that right?” She asked, thinking his day had been much like hers, playing the role that everyone expected while wishing desperately that she were somewhere else where she could be herself. 

 

“Well, there is also the fact that I missed you.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box with a silver ribbon. “And I got you something.”

 

“You bought me a present?” She was stunned. Ron hadn’t bothered to get her a gift in years that was just for her. They usually just bought something for the house but this year they didn’t bother.

 

“I hadn’t planned on it. But after we were together I couldn’t sit in my study without replaying every moment so I went out for some air and found myself in a small wizarding village called Dragon’s Wood. I was in a shop when I stumbled across…well, open it.” He said, placing the box into her hand. She lifted the lid and smiled as she looked inside. 

 

Nestled into a pillow of silver satin was a broach; a silver bow with a little oval watch face dangling from it. She set the box on the counter and held the broach in her hand. It was so simple, so lovely, a perfect, thoughtful gift.

 

“It’s beautiful.” She said.

 

“When I saw it I thought ‘Hermione would love this’. Then it occurred to me that it was just a simple watch, not a single diamond or precious stone, just a simple watch.” He laid his cane on the counter and removed his gloves. 

 

“I like simple.” She said.

 

“I know, just like I knew you would treasure it as though I _had_ given you precious stones. So I spoke to the shop keeper and we added a few things.” He smiled and turned it over in her palm. “Run your finger along the edge.”

 

Hermione ran her fingertip along the edge of the watch face and the smooth silver backing began to glow, then letters began to appear. _My soul’s salvation._ glowed in soft, golden light then vanished as soon as she stopped touching it. 

 

“It is spelled to appear at your touch only.” He said. 

 

“Lucius…it…oh…” She didn’t know what to say, the words were so beautiful, the gesture so thoughtful.

 

“Wait; there is one more thing that is special about this gift.” He said. “Put it to your ear and listen.” She held the little watch to her ear and her brow furrowed. 

 

“The ticking…it doesn’t sound like ticking….” Lucius took her other hand and pulled her close. He opened his cloak and pressed her palm to the center of his chest. The soft rhythm beneath her hand was the same as that sounding in her ear. “Your heartbeat.” 

 

She was moved, deeply. She never would have thought that Lucius would have such a sweet side, or that she would ever get to see it. 

 

“So you can listen and think of me when we are apart.” He took the broach and pinned it to her old sweatshirt. “I must say, you look rather…interesting.” He smirked. 

 

She suddenly realized that she was dressed for bed. She looked a fright with her hair all twisted up in a sloppy bun, an oversized grey sweatshirt over a pair of flannel drawstring pants covered in skiing snowmen and a pair of bright pink fuzzy slippers. She blushed and tugged awkwardly on the sweatshirt. 

 

“I was going to go to bed when I was finished watching the telly.” She said, gesturing towards the living room. 

 

“You have one?” His eyes lit up and she felt warm inside. He looked so excited.

 

“There are some muggle things I just can’t live without.” She said. 

 

“I would sometimes go visit Severus and watch his television, he would order take away and we would watch for hours.” He said wistfully.

 

“You should get one.” She said softly. “Put it in your study or in your bedroom.”

 

“Would you watch it with me?” he asked.

 

“In your study?”

 

“In my bedroom.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him. 

 

“You are trying to befuddle me.” She whispered, her hands resting against his chest. 

 

“No, I am trying to seduce you.” He whispered back.

 

“You can’t…Lucius….please.” His lips were traversing the side of her throat, leaving tiny, nipping kisses on her skin.

 

“Please what?” He asked, his hot breath tickling her ear just before he bit the lobe softly.

 

“Don’t make this more difficult for me.” She whimpered when his teeth grazed the tight tendon where neck met shoulder. She heard the wards on the house hum softly, Ron was accessing the floo. “You have to go! He’s on his way home!” She pushed at his chest but he wouldn’t let her go.

 

“Kiss me.” He said, holding her firm.

 

“Lucius, Ron is on his way home, if he finds you here…”

 

“Kiss me and I will go.” He persisted, rubbing his nose against hers.

 

“Lucius…”

 

“Kiss me.” She groaned and lifted her lips to his. What she intended as a quick peck on the lips turned into a full throttled open mouthed, tongue twining, breath stealing kiss. When they pulled apart she swayed in his arms, her head swimming. “Happy Christmas.” He whispered, pecking her lips gently and letting her go before he slipped out the back door just as Ron walked into the kitchen.

 

“What are you still doing up?” He asked, going to the icebox and withdrawing a bottle of beer. 

 

“Oh…um…”

 

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the broach pinned to her sweatshirt.

 

“Oh….an owl brought it…its….its a Christmas gift from the Malfoys.” She was amazed at how easily the lie spilled from her lips.

 

“Huh…nice.” He turned around and went back into the living room. He flopped onto the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table and used his wand to change the channel from her movie to some sports news channel for wizards talking about Quidditch. 

 

“It’s late.” She said, standing behind the sofa.

 

“Go on to bed.” He said distractedly. She sighed and made her way to her cold, lonely bed. She lay down and removed the broach from her sweatshirt and laid it on her pillow. She closed her eyes and thought about Lucius, his kiss, his touch, the way he had made her body come alive. She fell asleep listening to the rhythm of his heart beating softly from her watch.


	17. In Your Eyes

****

**Chapter 17: In Your Eyes**

**_Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.” - William Blake_ **

 

 

Hermione had heard it said that the weeks surrounding the holidays were the most depressing. That more suicides were committed during that time than any other. She believed it. The holiday season had been one large disappointment for her. Her only bright point was the half hour when Lucius popped up on her back step bearing gifts. 

 

How was it that being surrounded by family and friends made her feel sad and alone, but a surprise visit from a death eater had her feeling alive again? She glanced over her shoulder at the man lying face down on the sofa, his face buried in one of the throw pillows, a half empty bottle of whiskey still clutched in his hand and she felt cold, numb. She knew she still loved Ron, that would never, ever change, but was she still _IN_ love with him?

 

She sighed; it was too early to be thinking so deeply. She slung her bag over her shoulder and activated the floo, stepping through into the Malfoy library. She breathed deeply of the comforting scent of wood and books and a smile graced her lips. She felt lighter, better just by being there. She had spent her entire holiday wishing to be in that library with Lucius. She pined for the long lunches, the conversation, and the walks outside. She longed for the easy companionship they had found, the friendship that seemed to keep both their heads above water. She couldn’t deny that her body longed for the feel of his touch.

 

She tried to fight what she was feeling, but while she knew it was wrong she couldn’t help it. For the first time in ages she had actually _felt_ something and maybe she was being selfish, but she just didn’t want to give that up, she couldn’t. She deserved to be selfish for once. She tried to justify her feelings, her desire for Lucius and what he could do to her by telling herself that Ron was catting around, but she had no proof of that, still, he ignored her, he avoided her and practically pushed her into another man’s arms to have her needs met. 

 

All excuses, flimsy ones at that but it did not change how she felt. Even the guilt wasn’t enough to keep her from walking towards those double doors between the library and his study with butterflies dancing in her stomach. She was taking a giant step into a raging inferno that couldn’t end well but she was powerless to stop herself from opening those doors. 

 

He was standing near the window, his head bent over a parchment in his hand. His hair was tied back at his nape and he was casually clothed in a pair of loose black trousers and blue button down shirt. She loved seeing him like that, without the armor of his expensive robes. He looked far more approachable this way. 

 

He looked up the moment he heard her enter, the parchment in his hands no longer important. She was standing in the doorway wearing a rather fetching brown dress that hugged her curves and tall brown boots, the brooch he had bought her pinned just above her left breast. He had to remind himself to breathe as the air rushed from his lungs.

 

“Hello, Lucius.” She said softly as she walked across the room to stand before him. She could read uncertainty in his eyes and she knew he was waiting for her to tell him where things stood between them. “I’m back.”

 

“I’m glad, I missed you.” He said quietly as he stared down at her.

 

“I missed you too.” She took that last step that brought them within an inch of each other and she heard his sharp intake of breath. “I can’t walk away.”

 

“Neither can I.” He dropped the parchment and laid his hands on her hips.

 

“We are so wrong.” Her hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders.

 

“I know, but I don’t care.” He pulled her flush against him and ducked his head into the side of her neck, inhaling the rich floral scent of her.

 

“It can’t end well.” She curled her arms around his neck, cupping the back of his head as he pressed soft little kisses just below her ear. 

 

“It will be worth it.” He whispered, tickling her ear with the tip of his tongue.

 

“If they find out it will hurt them.” She moaned, her leg sliding up the outside of his to curl over his hip. 

 

“When we are together, they don’t exist. It’s just us.” He gripped her thigh and groaned when she rubbed tantalizingly against the bulge in his trousers. 

 

“We are going to hell for this.” She sighed, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

 

“My place is already reserved.” His lips slid up her throat and along her jaw before closing over hers and claiming her mouth in a kiss. The moaned simultaneously as they came together, lips sliding against lips, tongues licking and mouths sucking. Lucius lifted her into his arms, her legs coming around his hips instinctively as he carried her to the low bench seat that stretched along the front of the window. 

 

He sat slowly, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. Their mouths remained fused as they tugged at each other’s clothing. Lucius’s shirt was tugged free from his waistband and Hermione’s dress was unzipped and pulled forward, her torso bared as his hands explored the smooth skin of her back. Long, impatient fingers plucked at the catch of her bra and Lucius sighed into her mouth when it finally released and he was able to slide the creamy lace garment off. 

 

He pulled away from the kiss and admired her breasts. Full, rounded and tipped with dusky, tight nipples that made his mouth water with the need to suck. He cupped her, watching his thumb slide over that sweetly peaked tip, urging it to tighten further. 

 

“I love it that you let me look at you.” He whispered, unable to stop staring at the beautifully aroused nipples pointing his direction, begging for his attention. 

 

“I love it that you look at me. I love it that you see me.” She pulled the ribbon from his hair and smoothed her fingers through his hair before tugging his head close and pressing her nipple against his lips. He curled his tongue around the puckered nipple and suckled her into his mouth. “Oh god…I love it that you make me feel.” Her head dropped forward and she kissed the top of his head, she could smell the spicy scent that clung to his hair. 

 

He sucked softly, his tongue sliding over and around the puckered nipple before he switched sides. He loved the affectionate way she kept kissing him and the way she stroked his hair as she rocked her pelvis against him. The heady scent of her arousal reached his nose and he nearly spilled in his trousers like a green boy. 

 

“Damn it I can barely control myself with you.” He rasped when he pulled back and watched her wet nipple glisten in the dim winter light coming through the window. 

 

“I don’t want you to.” She whispered harshly, her hands sliding down his chest through his open shirt and attacking his fly. “Lock the door.” She whimpered, opening his belt and pulling open the placket on his trousers. He didn’t wear underwear and she was very, very grateful for that fact as his cock sprung free and into the softness of her waiting palm. 

 

He growled and flicked his fingers at the door as her hand stroked his shaft. Up and down the turgid length her little hand slid, sliding his foreskin back and forth over the sensitive tip. He knew it would be another flash fire moment between them and as much as he would like to actually make love to her he suspected that it would be awhile before they could come together with any sort of calm. 

 

He pushed the dress up her thighs, bunching the material at her waist before tucking his fingers into the sides of her knickers and whispering a spell that rent the lace into easily discarded pieces. Her soft curls beckoned his fingers and he slid them through the springy little patch of fur before moving lower over the smooth skin of her folds and between the pouty lips to the wet, slick flesh of her core. 

 

She was dripping wet and burning hot as his fingers burrowed into her heat. She moaned and started riding his fingers with little jerks of her hips as she stroked him faster. The sweet heady scent of her had him longing to bury his face between her thighs and sample her flavor. 

 

“I need you, Lucius, now.” She held him firmly at the base and shifted her hips, sliding his fingers free before settling herself over him and slowly impaling herself on his erection. Inch by inch he slid inside her, the tight heat of her pussy like a smooth, wet glove closing over him. 

 

“Incredible.” He groaned, his hands gripped her bottom tight as she began to rise and fall, sliding his cock in and out of her body. She took every inch of him, lifting until only the tip of him remained inside her then falling until her dark curls blended with his lighter ones. “That’s it…ride me…” He groaned, lifting his hips on her down stroke and grinding his cock into her.

 

“Oh….so good, Lucius!” Her head fell back, her hands clasped behind his neck as she began to roll her hips, her clit brushing his pelvis with every slow undulation. “More…don’t stop….please don’t stop….” She begged. 

 

“Can’t….need you….need to come…” He growled, continuing to pump his cock up into her. He felt her tighten around him and he knew she was close, her nails digging into the back of his neck leaving tiny little bruises in the shape of crescent moons. He didn’t care; he wanted her to mark him. She let her head fall forward, her forehead resting against the top of his head, her hot little pants blowing in his face as her movements became urgent. 

 

“I’m coming…oh god yes….Lucius.” Her eyelids fluttered and a low, hoarse moan slid past her lips as an intense orgasm caught her in its grip, wringing cry after cry from her as she convulsed around his invading member. He pushed through the intense, throbbing grip of her flesh until he joined her at the tail end of her own release, the hot, stinging spurt of his seed inside her triggering intense aftershocks that had her sobbing into his shoulder as she slumped over him, exhausted emotionally and physically. 

 

Lucius held her tight, stroking her back as she drew several deep breaths. She kissed his neck, soft lingering pecks of her lips against the pounding pulse before lifting her head and looking him in the eye. 

 

“No more regrets.” He kissed her lips. “No guilt, no recriminations. This is just us, Hermione. No one else exists when we are together.”

 

“No regrets.” She smiled softly and kissed him back. “You need to let me go, I need to clean up and get to work.”

 

“No need to rush, your boss will approve a longer break, I am certain of it.” He said. She chuckled and looked down at him.

 

“I have accepted that this…what is happening between us…its inevitable, but we can’t spend all of our time having sex, no one can know, Lucius, and that means I have to finish this project so people don’t question why I am here.” She said. 

 

“You are right, I suppose, but you can’t blame a man for trying.” He said, wincing when she lifted her hips and his softening cock slipped free of her. “Know this though, one day very soon we are going to spend the day making love, slowly.”

 

“I look forward to it.” She smiled, brushing her lips against his before sliding from his lap to begin her day. She was a changed woman. Gone was the girl who always did the right things, always sacrificed herself for the sake of others. In her place was the woman who did what felt good, who took a chance to be selfish and have something for herself at the risk of others. The question was, why did it feel so good to do the wrong thing?


	18. Seen

****

**Chapter Eighteen: Seen**

**_There is no need to speak of what you feel; if it is real it will be written in your eyes. – Anonymous_ **

 

Lucius sat near the window of a small café in Diagon Alley and watched Hermione sip her hot chocolate. He wondered if she realized how erotic it was to watch her partake of the drink. The way she pursed her lips to blow on the scalding liquid, the way her pink little tongue dug into the frothy cream and licked the remains from her lips when she drank. He could feel himself growing painfully erect beneath the table and he shifted uncomfortably. 

 

People were eyeing them strangely and he was well aware of it. He didn’t go out in public often since the war and he rarely patronized any local shops aside from an occasional foray into a bookshop. He had gone with her to visit the architect who was designing the new library and somehow managed to be talked in to having coffee. 

 

“You look like you are going to gobble me up.” She said, smirking and lifting her cup to her lips. 

 

“I was thinking about it.” He was leaning back in his chair, his legs extended and crossed at the ankle beneath the table. She brushed the toe of her boot against the underside of his calf and smiled when he grunted. “I want to take you away.” 

 

“You know that isn’t possible, Lucius. Neither of us can find a plausible excuse for going on a trip.” She said, wishing that they could just up and disappear for while.

 

“I want to be with you, to sleep beside you and wake up holding you. I want to make love to you in a _bed_ the way you deserve.” He kept his voice low so only she could hear him. 

 

“I want that too, but this is what we have, Lucius.” She set her empty mug back on the table. “Beds and romantic holidays are for honest lovers.”

 

“You think that because we are having an affair that you don’t deserve to be romanced?” He knew that their afternoon romps on his desk, or the floor, or the sofa weren’t exactly romantic. They were wild, passionate and over far too quickly. He _wanted_ to romance her. To have her alone someplace where there was no risk of discovery, spread out beneath him on a plush bed where he could build her up slowly, touch and taste every glorious inch of her. Where he could lay her out completely naked and love her over and over again until neither of them could move. 

 

“I think that it is futile to wish for something that is impossible. What we have…”

 

“Fancy meeting you here.” Hermione and Lucius both looked up suddenly. They hadn’t heard anyone approaching and were shocked to see Draco standing beside their table. “Does mother know you are out with the help?” 

 

“Draco, mind your tongue, Son.” Lucius said, his tone threatening. “Hermione and I met with the architect designing the library. We stopped in for a quick cup of hot chocolate.”

 

“You don’t drink hot chocolate, Father.” Draco arched his brow and eyed Lucius quizzically. Something was off. His father had been practically a hermit for years, only leaving the house when he had no other choice. It was strange to find him sitting in a café with his mudblood librarian.

 

“I had coffee.” Lucius said, gesturing towards the empty cup. 

 

“What were you going to say before I interrupted, Granger?” Draco asked. “What is it you think you have that is of interest to my father?”

 

Hermione looked up and had to fight the smug look off of her face. _Oh if you only knew you little jerk._ she thought.

 

“I was just telling him that what we have completed so far is great, but there is still so much left to finish.” She said. “Not that I mind, his library is incredible, so many amazing books! I don’t think I have ever enjoyed anything quite as much as the time I spend in that library.” She cast a glance at Lucius and saw him smirking.

 

“You are so strange, Granger.” Draco said, shaking his head. “You are the only person I have ever met who would rather be with books than people.”

 

“Books have never tried to kill me, well except that one in Care of Magical Creatures class, but it was easily calmed once Hagrid explained how to open it.” She looked over at Lucius and smiled. “I better get back; I want to get those last two rows above the fireplace finished before I call it a day.” 

 

“I will escort you.” 

 

Draco couldn’t help but watch as his father held Hermione’s cloak for her and slipped it over her shoulders. Did he realize how he looked at her? Did his father think him blind? It was so obvious that there was something going on, but what? He didn’t think that his father even realized the way his touch lingered on her shoulders, or that he rested his hand on the small of her back.

 

“I’ll just powder my nose before we leave, excuse me for a moment.” She said before hurrying off to the back of the café. Draco saw Lucius’s eyes linger over her retreating back and he chuckled.

 

“You are fucking the mudblood, aren’t you?” Draco asked, not quite believing his own deduction. 

 

“I warned you once to watch how you speak about her, Draco, I wasn’t joking.” Lucius glared at his son. “Hermione is important to me and that is all you need to know.”

 

“Do you think I can’t see it? I’m not a child any longer, Father; I know sexual chemistry when I see it.” Draco was shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t care if you have a mistress; I don’t care if you fuck the entire female population of the wizarding world so long as my mother doesn’t get hurt.” 

 

“Draco, mind your business.” Lucius growled. He didn’t like the inference that Hermione was his mistress. She meant more to him than that even if no one would ever know.

 

“Are you telling me that you aren’t fucking her?” Draco grinned when he saw his father’s lips tighten. “Not that I blame you, she has grown into a quite a looker and I have no doubts that Weasley is as big a failure in the sack as he is in life. Hell, if given the chance I’d probably fuck her too.”

 

Draco found himself nose to nose with his father, his robes twisted in the older wizard’s hands as he was jerked forward and onto his toes. Draco laughed quietly when he saw the fire in Lucius’s eyes, that old spark of something evil. 

 

“Never. Ever. Speak of her like that. Do you understand me?” Lucius growled, seeing through a red haze as anger and dark magic churned within him.

 

“Lucius?” Hermione’s voice cut through the fog and Lucius eased his grip on Draco’s robes. He stepped away from his son and snatched his cane from where it leaned against the table.

 

“Come, Hermione.” He said, laying his hand on her back and nudging her towards the door. Lucius glared at Draco as he passed by but his son wasn’t afraid. Outwardly Draco may appear put out with his father, but inside he rejoiced at that little glimpse of his father’s fire. If it took him having a go at the mudblood to bring his father back then he would deal with it. After all, it was just sex; his father would never fall in love with a mudblood witch.


	19. More Than Just an Affair

****

**Chapter Nineteen: More Than Just an Affair**

_**Nunc scio quit sit amor."  
Lat., "Now I know what love is." -Virgil ** _

 

 

Nestled deep in the woods to the east of Malfoy Manor stood a rarely used hunting box. It was a good sized cottage with three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large lounge area and a kitchen. Though it had not been used in ages the elves still maintained it diligently. Lucius apparated into the center of the lounge, his hands covering Hermione’s eyes.

 

“Are you ready?” He asked, his lips grazing her ear.

 

“I don’t know. Am I in danger? Do I need my wand?” She laughed.

 

“I would never let anything harm you.” He whispered. “Open your eyes.”

 

She blinked to clear her slightly blurred vision and the room slowly came into focus. She was standing in the center of a strange room that smelled of leather, wood and the fire crackling in the hearth. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the clearly masculine furniture and décor. 

 

“Where are we?” She asked, turning to face Lucius. He was removing his jacket, tossing it onto one of the leather sofas before loosening his waistcoat and the buttons at his collar. 

 

“We are in my hunting box.” He said quietly. “No one ever uses it so it seemed the perfect place.”

 

“Perfect place for what?” She knew the answer already but she loved hearing him say it.

 

“For me to make love to you properly.” He yanked her into his arms and stared down into her eyes. “I have had you a dozen times and not once have I had you completely naked with all the time in the world to explore every inch of you. That is all about to change.” 

 

“So you decided this would be our little love nest then?” She felt tremors of excitement coursing through her at the thought of an afternoon alone with no risk of discovery.

 

“I want more than just quick shags in my study or library.” He pushed her curls back over her shoulders and his cool fingers traced lightly along her throat. “I want more of you.” 

 

She swallowed hard, not certain what to say. They both knew that what they had was limited, it always would be because they belonged to other people, but it didn’t stop the longing, the desire to belong to each other. She opted not to say anything at all; instead she put her mouth to his and kissed him, knowing he would rather taste her than talk.

 

Lucius wasn’t a fool, he knew she was trying to distract him from the fact that she had not responded to his words. Of course he knew the answer, even if she never spoke it. _This is all we can ever have._ Knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting more, however. He had cursed the fates a hundred times for the mess his life had become. He had been a happy child for the most part, adored by his mother, tolerated by his father. Then he had become involved with the Dark Lord and it all seemed to fall apart. There had been a short reprieve from the slavery but he had not made good use of it. Change had come too late for Lucius and he would forever pay the price for it.

 

He kissed the witch in his arms with more passion than he had ever shown another woman. Perhaps it was because she kissed him back with equal and sometimes greater fervor. There was no reserve to her desire, she was open, honest and she responded to him without shame or inhibition. It was intoxicating to hold her, to feel her come alive in his arms, to feel her warmth surround him.

 

“Come with me.” He whispered against her lips as he bent low and lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him, her face tucked into the side of his neck as he carried her up a narrow flight of stairs and down a short hall to the Master Bedroom. Heavy drapes were pulled closed, blocking out the daylight glaring off of the new fallen snow outside. The room was cast in the soft, golden glow of firelight and his servants had anticipated his arrival by providing a tray of food and drink.

 

He sat on the edge of the large sleigh bed, still cradling her against his chest. Her lips were tracing his throbbing jugular, her tongue licking the spot just below his ear and sucking gently, careful not to leave a mark. On more than one occasion h had longed to put his mark on her and he wondered if she had ever wanted to do the same. 

 

He shifted her slightly so he could reach the zipper that ran the length of her back. The fabric of her dress parted and his hands slid inside to caress the smooth skin of her back. She pulled her arms free, the front of the dress falling into her lap and revealing the dark red bra she wore beneath it. He moved her off of his lap to the edge of the bed and she lay back against the cool sheets. 

 

Lucius moved to kneel in front of her, tugging the dress down over her hips and thighs and tossing it aside. He got to his feet and loomed over her, enthralled by the smooth creamy skin swathed in ruby lace. Lush, soft curves lying in wanton abandon on the bed waiting for him, eager for him. _‘My god she is incredible’_ he thought as he stared down at her. She had her arms above her head, her face turned slightly away from him though her eyes never left his. 

 

He removed her boots and socks, dropping them to the floor carelessly. He kissed the tips of her toes and then the ticklish arch.

 

“What are you doing?” She laughed, wiggling her toes.

 

“Exploring every inch of you.” He nipped at her big toe then let her legs drop back to the bed. She sat up and reached for his hips tugging him closer to the bed. 

 

“Take off the shirt.” She said, her voice low and raspy. She watched the slow motion of his fingers as he popped each button through its opening before finally sliding the fine cotton off of his shoulders and casting it aside. The firelight danced over smooth, golden skin sprinkled lightly with silky curls right in the center of his chest. It reflected beautifully off of the light trail of downy hairs that began just below his navel and migrated down into his trousers.

 

She reached up and raked her nails down the center of his chest, a smirk lifting her lips when he hissed. She leaned forward and dipped her tongue into the shadowed dent of his navel, her eyes rolling up to meet his as she licked the soft, silky trail that lead to the treasure she sought. He caressed the wild mass of curls as soft, delicate hands undid his belt and opened his trousers, pushing them off his hops to puddle at his feet. He bent over long enough to remove his shoes and socks then kicked his discarded clothing aside, standing in front of her naked and aroused.

 

She had seen him of course, had felt him in her hands and in her body but she hadn’t been up close and personal with his naked flesh. She encircled his shaft with her fingers, slowly sliding her hand up and down, watching as the tip peeked out from its shroud. His was only the second penis she had examined so closely and already she was fascinated by the differences. Where Ron was probably average in length but thick, Lucius was long, thick and when he was hard his cock had a slight upward curve to it that let him hit her in just the right spots.

 

His hands tightened in her hair when she licked him slowly along the underside of his cock from balls to tip, her lips closing around the flushed head and suckling gently. His knees nearly buckled, he hadn’t had a woman go down on him since he was a young man, before he was married. Narcissa would never do it, said it wasn’t something she thought she would enjoy. It didn’t seem to be the case with Hermione who was now sucking him rather enthusiastically. He had forgotten how good it felt to have a tight, hot mouth wrapped around him, the feel of a rough little tongue pressing just under the head as he was suckled and stroked. It was incredible, almost too incredible as she was quickly building him up to orgasm with her attentions.

 

“No more...” He pulled her head back and looked down at her, her lips were wet and swollen and they looked so soft and inviting. “You will make me come before I’m ready.” He brushed his thumb over her plump lips and groaned before lowering his head to sample the sweetness of her mouth. He urged her back onto the bed, following her down and lying half over her, kissing her mouth hungrily while she ran her fingers through his hair.

 

She arched her back so he could loosen the catch on her bra. He tossed it to the side, his lips still devouring hers as he filled his hands with her breasts. He cupped the soft mounds and gently kneaded them, his thumbs worrying the puckered tips. He left her mouth to traverse the smooth skin of her cheek and down the side of her neck. She caressed his back and shoulders her nails lightly scoring his skin and causing him to break out in goose bumps. He loved the way she held him and touched him, pulling him closer as if she wanted to crawl inside his skin. 

 

He felt her need for him, her desire for him and he never doubted for one moment that her feelings were genuine. She made him feel in a way he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling. She moaned quietly when he licked the sweet valley between her breasts, arching her back and pressing them into his hands, begging wordlessly for his mouth. He pinched her nipple between his fingers, rolling and tugging on the little peak, arousing her further before closing his mouth over it and sucking hard and deep. 

 

“Mmmm….Lucius, your mouth feels so good.” She groaned, pressing against the back of his head to encourage him further. He trailed his lips lower, down the ladder of her ribcage and along the curve of her waist. He tongued her navel, kissing the little indentation as though kissing her mouth. He drew up and for just a moment admired the way the red lace knickers hugged her hips before he began to slide them down, smiling when she scissored her legs back and forth to get them the rest of the way off. 

 

“Finally I have you completely naked.” He whispered against the soft curve of her belly. He nudged her thighs apart and moved between them. She was breathing heavily when he parted her folds using his thumbs, when he laid his tongue against her clit her body bowed off of the bed and a throaty groan rang out through the cottage. 

 

“Oh god, yes…please!” She had one hand fisted in the sheets beneath her and the other in his hair as she began rolling her hips against his mouth. He licked, sucked and nipped at her, voraciously feasting on her succulent flesh as though he were starving for the taste of her. Her already sweet flavor was enhanced by the eager way she responded to his attentions. “Lucius….oh god…I’m coming…don’t stop, please don’t!” He pursed his lips over her clit and sucked, rubbing his tongue against the tight bundle of nerves until she cried loudly and began to pulse against his lips. 

 

He licked her gently, soothing her as she shuddered and gasped, moaning softly. When he felt her relax he kissed his way up her body lingering over her heart. To his surprise she cradled his face in her hands and brought his lips to hers, kissing him softly, not at all offended by the taste of her own sex on his lips. As her tongue slid between his lips he pressed the head of his cock against her. The tip slid between her slippery folds and lodged against her entrance. 

 

“Come inside me…make love to me.” She whispered against his lips as she lifted her hips and pulled him into her. He sank slowly into her, her pussy tight and swollen from her orgasm. He pressed as deep as he could, holding himself there and enjoying the feel of her heat surrounding him. 

 

“This is what heaven feels like.” He groaned, pulling back slowly and then thrusting forward again. He was in no hurry now that he was buried inside her. He wanted to go slow, to savor every second as he made love to her for the first time. She threaded her fingers with his, her shimmering eyes locked with his as he moved over her. He could feel his release approaching and he pushed up off of her slightly. He braced himself with one hand on the headboard and while his slow pace never wavered the power behind his thrusts increased. 

 

With every stroke he pulled almost all the way out of her before plunging deep, bottoming out on every thrust. Her little pants turned to whimpers and her hands journeyed over his sweat slickened back to cup his flexing backside. She pulled her knees up and opened her legs as wide as she could, pulling him impossibly deep within her. 

 

“Right there….oh…oh…..OH…..OH GOD, LUCIUS!” Her body arched beneath him and her pussy clamped down on him in a strangling, pulsating grip that had him spurting inside her without warning, his stomach clenching painfully with the force of his release. He fell on her, whimpering and shaking with the power of his emotions. She didn’t try to shove him away but wrapped her arms and her legs around him and held on tight until the aftermath ebbed. 

 

He kissed her softly as he eased from between her thighs and fell to the mattress beside her. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, his body so sated that he wondered if he would ever move again. Hermione rolled onto her stomach and bunched the pillow beneath her head, watching him. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes, reaching out to run his fingertips up and down her spine.

 

“I’ve never felt anything quite like that.” He said softly. 

 

“Neither have I.” She felt bad thinking it, but she couldn’t recall a single time when her husband had made her feel as good Lucius. “Do you think it’s because we are misbehaving? Do you think the reason it is so good is because its taboo?” 

 

“No. I think it is so good because you and I are supposed to be together like this, that we were meant to be lovers.” She was content to lie beside him, naked and sated, enjoying the aftermath of their lovemaking. Narcissa had never offered him that. When they were finished she would hurry from the bed to shower, expecting him to be gone before her return so she could sleep alone. “Do you ever imagine what life would be like if it was just us?”

 

“Sometimes, do you?” She asked, curious as to what he would envision for them.

 

“More than I should.” He said. “I imagine a home, warm, comfortable, a big family. I would want lots of children with you; I think you would be an incredible mother and that with you I could be a better father. I wouldn’t fail because you wouldn’t let me.” 

 

“It sounds wonderful, but it’s just a dream, that’s all it can ever be.” She said sadly. 

 

“What if that’s not enough? What if I want more? What if I want the dream?” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against him, her hands trapped between them and pressed against his chest. 

 

“Are you willing to deal with the consequences? You will have to divorce Narcissa and I will have to divorce Ron. The scandal will be brutal when our affair goes public. It will be ugly, messy and we will be ridiculed for what we have done. Your son will probably disown you and I will lose my friends. We will lose everything.” She said. “There is a stigma that comes with being divorced in our world, Lucius. No one will understand what we have done, what we have found together. Our relationship will be plastered all over the papers and turned into something disgusting and sordid. No…don’t even think about it, let us just enjoy what we have, for however long we have it.”

 

“This is about more than just sex, Hermione. You know that don’t you?” He lifted her chin with his fingers and looked into her eyes.

 

“I know that, Lucius, its more than just sex for me too, but we can’t think about the what ifs.” She said sadly. “Just kiss me, make love to me again. Here there is just us, the world no longer exists when we are together.”

 

Swallowing down the words he knew he could never say, Lucius took her lips with his and for the rest of the afternoon her made love to her over and over until he had no choice but to let her go. No choice but to let her return to her home and the man who didn’t deserve her.


	20. Suspicions

****

**Chapter Twenty: Suspicions**

_**We are paid for our suspicions by finding what we suspect. – Henry David Thoreau** _

 

Harry Potter walked into the small pub at the corner of Knockturn Alley with a heavy heart. He had followed his best friend and brother-in-law from work after watching him send an owl to Hermione claiming he was working late again. While he _did_ work a lot of overtime he wasn’t working nearly as much as he told his wife. Harry had kept silent, not wishing to cause any more problems for them by revealing Ron’s perfidy.

 

More often than not when he said he was working he could be found sitting in this same, skanky little pub nursing a bottle of ale and staring out the window. Harry saw him immediately sitting in a booth, his head bent, his hands wrapped around a bottle peeling the label. He wouldn’t pretend to understand what Ron and Hermione were going through, he couldn’t imagine how it must hurt to lose their child. 

 

The night Oliver was born Harry had sat in the nursery of his own house, cradling his one year old son James to his chest all night long. He had tried to imagine life without that little boy but the pain was unbearable. He had watched from afar as they slowly pulled apart, the bond that the couple once shared slowly unraveled beneath the weight of their loss. 

 

Hermione had chosen to shut out the world and grieve. For nearly a year she remained holed up in the house crying, mourning, getting it out of her system while Ron turned to work and alcohol. He chose to pretend like it never happened, like Oliver had never existed. Now, as Hermione was emerging, having gone through the range of emotions one would expect, Ron was withdrawing deeper, his grief still festering inside him. 

 

“Can I join you?” Ron looked up to see Harry and his shoulders slumped as his friend slid into the bench across from him. 

 

“You followed me?” Ron continued to peel the label from his bottle.

 

“I did. I’m worried about you, mate.” Harry looked up when a barmaid approached and ordered himself a pint. 

 

“Don’t be. Go home to your family, Harry.” He said, reaching into his robes and withdrawing a pack of cigarettes.

 

“You should do the same.” Harry said. “Hermione would kill you if she knew you were smoking.” Ron lit up and took a deep pull off the fag before exhaling slowly. 

 

“She doesn’t care.” He said, turning to look out the window.

 

“That’s not true, Ron. Mione loves you; she’s hurting too you know.” He said. 

 

“Have you seen her lately?” Ron asked. “She went back to work recently.”

 

“I know, she said she is working for Lucius Malfoy. She looked like she was enjoying it.” Harry eyed Ron curiously, wondering what was going on inside his head. 

 

“She is. She’s happy. She smiles a lot now. I come home and she’s in the kitchen making dinner singing to herself like she used to.” He emptied his bottle and waved towards the barmaid for another. 

 

“That’s a good thing, Ron. You want her to be happy, don’t you?” Harry watched his friend with a heavy heart. He wished he knew what to do for him.

 

“I do, but I want her to be happy with me and she isn’t.” He took another drag and a derisive smile tugged at his lips. “She says that she and Malfoy are friends. Oh, I’m sorry, she calls him _Lucius_. He is the one putting the smile on her face.”

 

“There is no reason why they _shouldn’t_ be friends. He has been through a lot in his life, seen things, done things that change a man. She wouldn’t befriend him if he wasn’t a changed man.” Harry knew Hermione well enough to know she would never make friends with Lucius unless he was a better man. 

 

“Yeah, well I’m not so certain that they are just friends.” Ron sneered, tilting back his bottle and chugging the ale. 

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Ron! Surely you don’t think….Hermione and Lucius? Why in the world would you ever think that?” Harry found the idea laughable but he could see that Ron wasn’t amused.

 

“Call it a hunch. Since she’s been working for him she’s changed. She fixes herself up; she’s been going out shopping and doing things around the house. She looks so damned beautiful, Harry, I had forgotten how beautiful she was.” Ron sighed wistfully. “She won’t let me touch her.”

 

“She’s been through so much, Mate, maybe she’s just not ready.” Harry said softly, a bit uncomfortable.

 

“No, it’s me. She cried…she looked….I felt like…I felt like some kind of rapist or something.” He ground the cigarette butt into the ashtray roughly, an agonized grimace on his face. “I’ve lost her. I lost my son and now I have lost my wife.”

 

“Ron, you haven’t lost her. She is at home waiting for you every night and where are you? Here, drinking to all hours.” Harry saw him cringe but knew he had to take a hard line with Ron, he had to be brutally honest or he just wouldn’t get it. “If you want to make her happy, if you want back in her bed then you have to be home with her.”

 

“I can’t stand it there, Harry. Ol…Oli…the baby’s room is still just as it was the day we went to the hospital, like it’s still waiting to welcome him home. The house feels wrong…empty.” He shook his head as though trying to shake the thoughts free but no matter what he did they wouldn’t let go. 

 

“Do you love her?” Harry asked softly.

 

“Yeah, I love her.” He answered. “But I don’t think I can make her happy, Harry. Lucius has made her smile more in the last month than I have in the last year. All I do is make her cry or make her angry.”

 

“Look, I doubt very seriously that anything is going on with Hermione and Lucius. I’m sure they just talk about books and the like, from what I understand he loves books nearly as much as Mione. Besides, he would never look at Mione that way.” Harry took a drink of his beer to hide his amusement at the thought.

 

“Why not? What’s wrong with her? She’s beautiful, smart and funny…why wouldn’t he look at her that way?” He looked affronted.

 

“Yes, she is all those things. But its Lucius, no matter what they have now, they have a past. Not to mention the fact that he’s married and Hermione IS muggleborn. She isn’t his type.” Harry said. “Go home, Ron. Go home and talk to your wife. Watch a movie, hold her hand, go for a walk…just do something before doing nothing costs you everything.”

 

****

**~@~**

Draco settled into one of the thickly padded Queen Anne chairs inside the Malfoy’s theater box. His mother arranged her gown artfully around her chair and angled herself towards the stage making sure that her profile was flattering to anyone who might look her way. Draco had to admit that his mother was vain. Appearances were important to her and she took great pains to keep them up.

 

“We should have invited father, Fiddler on the Roof was always a favorite of his.” Draco said conversationally.

 

“He wouldn’t have come. No doubt he is holed up in that dusty old library of his with his nose stuck in a book. Assuming he’s not cavorting with that mudblood librarian he is so fond of.” She sniffed.

 

“Hermione Weasley?” Draco didn’t look at her, he was afraid that if he did she would see his own suspicions regarding his father’s relationship with Hermione.

 

“Yes, spends all his time with that muggleborn bookworm. He doesn’t think I notice him smiling all the time, whistling to himself.” She rolled her eyes and curled her lips in disgust. “I see them all the time walking on the back lawn down by the lake. He takes his lunch with her every day and half of the time he is late for dinner. He thinks he is getting away with it, but I am no fool, I know what’s going on there and it’s nothing good.”

 

“They are but friends who share a common love of the written word, mother. There is nothing to get yourself worked up over.” Draco lied. He adored his mother and saw her as being delicate and easily wounded.

 

“Is that what he told you?” She asked. She had sent Draco to speak to his father previously but he hadn’t said much about it.

 

“It is, I also had the opportunity to observe them. They are simply two bibliophiles who enjoy debating and conversing about literature, nothing more.” The lies came easily thank goodness. He couldn’t tell her the truth, that when his father looked at Hermione the air fairly sizzled with sex magic. Seeing them together it was clear that they had feelings for each other but he opted not to think on it too hard, it was too disturbing.

 

“I suppose you are right, it is just disturbing to see your father so….cheery.” She said, her chin lifting haughtily in the air. 

 

“Are you more troubled by the idea of him possibly having an affair or is it him possibly being happy that bothers you?” Draco asked. Narcissa looked over her shoulder at her son, her lips pursed smugly. She refused to answer and that was answer enough for Draco. His mother really could care less whose bed his father shared, she just didn’t want him to be happy.


	21. Daring

****

**Chapter Twenty-One: Daring**

**_What is life without risk? – Anonymous_ **

 

It was Sunday night when Lucius felt the tips of his fingers tingling at dinner. He curled them into his palm and tried not to smile. She was thinking about him. It always thrilled him to get that little tingle, to know that he was in her thoughts when they were apart. She was almost always on his mind. 

 

He hated the weekend. She had weekends off and he never failed to miss her. They spent two days a week in the hunting lodge. They would make love and talk for hours then she would curl up in his arms while he read to her. They were halfway through the story of Abelard and Heloise.

 

He had never been happier or more content than he was when he was spending time alone with her. He stood in his study, his fingertips still tingling as he read the note just delivered by his servant. He had called upon an old source within the ministry and discovered that Auror Weasley was out on a mission which meant Hermione was all alone and judging by the tingle in his fingertips, she was thinking about him.

 

He wasted no time apparating to the patio in back of her house. He could see the soft glow of light through a window and he edged closer. Through the sheers he could see her sitting in the center of a large bed with her knees pulled up, her nightgown covering them, reading a book. Did she never tire of reading?

 

He pecked on the window lightly and saw her start. He stepped to the side, hiding from her as he lifted his fingertips and blew gently across them, stimulating the thread of magic between them. He knew she would feel the tingle in her palm and know it was him. He heard the snap of the latch and then she was raising the sash, her head poking out and looking about.

 

“Miss me?” He asked, leaning back against the house. She stared at him, smirking slightly as she shook her head.

 

“You don’t give a witch a chance to miss you, Lucius. What are you doing here?” She asked, leaning out of the window.

 

“You were thinking about me…how could I not come when you were so clearly longing for me?” He purred, grinning wickedly.

 

“You and that bloody spell of yours. Is a woman not permitted to fantasize in private?” She asked, curling her marked hand into her fist.

 

“Why should you fantasize all alone when I am available for your use?” He moved in front of her and placed his hands on the window sill, ducking his head to caress her lips with his.

 

“You shouldn’t be here, Lucius.” She whispered, moaning softly as his tongue slid over her bottom lip. “He’s going to be home soon, he can’t find you in the house.” 

 

“Then I won’t come in the house.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her through the window. She squealed, laughing as he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “Now, tell me you missed me.” He demanded, pressing her back against the house.

 

She laughed and wrapped her arms and legs around him as she pressed light, smacking kisses against his lips. He was the only person who could make her laugh it seemed, the only one who could make her smile. As dangerous as it was for him to be there she was glad he had come, she _had_ missed him.

 

“You grow too bold, Lucius.” She said quietly. Even as she chastised him she couldn’t let him go. She held him close against her body, moving against him with a longing that only seemed to increase the more they were together. “I do miss you when we are apart, but we can’t be together all the time, you know that.”

 

Lucius closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her fingers moving through his hair and the flexing of her thighs around his waist as she rubbed up against him. Why couldn’t he get enough of her? Why was he sending servants to fetch her pillow from the cottage for him at night so he could sleep with her scent in his nostrils? Why is it he couldn’t think of anything but her?

 

“If I could I would take you away from here and never look back.” He buried his face in the side of her neck, kissing her soft skin and inhaling her heady scent.

 

“You shouldn’t say such things, Lucius.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back giving him complete access to her throat.

 

“It’s the truth. I want to take you away and lock you up with me in some lavish palace where you will never wear clothing or leave my sight again.” He whispered roughly against her ear. He nipped the fleshy lobe and swirled his tongue in the delicate shell as he moved his lips back to hers. It wasn’t so much a kiss that they shared as it was a mating of mouths. His hand moved slowly up her thigh, aching to dip his fingers into the sweet, wet haven between her legs and feel the slippery welcome he had come to know so well.

 

“It sounds like a beautiful dream….god, we can’t, Lucius….” Her words were cut off with a groan when his fingertips skimmed the wet petals of her sex. 

 

“Hermione!” She stiffened in his arms immediately, her eyes going wide as she heard her name being called from inside the house.

 

“Oh no…he’s home. You need to leave. Now.” She scrambled out of his arms and shoved her nightgown down.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, touching her cheek lightly. She turned to look back at the house when she heard Ron’s voice calling her again. She looked into Lucius’s eyes and felt a just a slight prick of guilt but she pushed it aside and reached up to kiss him quickly. 

 

“Tomorrow, just us in our cottage. Now go!” She pushed him back and he disappeared just as the backdoor opened.

 

“There you are!” Ron frowned as he stepped out onto the patio.

 

“Welcome home.” She said quietly. “How was work?”

 

“Busy…what are you doing out here?” He asked, closing the back door and walking towards her.

 

“Just stargazing.” She lied.

 

“In your nightie?” He bent his head and she offered him her cheek. He hesitated for a moment, wondering when it was that she had stopped offering him her lips when he greeted her at night. He kissed her cheek lightly, realizing the damage he had done by not coming home, by keeping her at a distance for so long.

 

“It’s a nice night and it was an impulse, I was about to go to bed actually.” She said, taking a step away from him. 

 

“You smell nice…kind of spicy. Is that a new perfume?” He asked. Hermione felt her pulse race, it wasn’t her scent that he was smelling, it was Lucius’s scent _on_ her. How was she to explain that?

 

“No…I was in a boutique today trying some scents…I didn’t buy anything. Maybe I will take a shower first, and then go to bed.” She stammered, hoping the lie took.

 

“I am glad you are getting out more, taking an interest in things. Shopping and working…it’s nice to see you smiling.” He said quietly, awkwardly. 

 

She looked at him and tried to decipher what it was that she felt for him. She still found his boyish looks attractive but she didn’t feel an attraction to him. She still felt love when she looked at him but it didn’t feel the same as it had a year ago. She hated deceiving him, but she didn’t feel guilty, not as guilty as she should at any rate. 

 

“Thank you, Ron.” She gave him a half smile and stepped around him. “I’m going to have a shower and go to bed now, goodnight.” Without another word she stepped inside and left him all alone in the dark, wondering if they would ever find their way back from the place they were.


	22. Unraveling

****

**Chapter 22: Unraveling**

_**Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. – Sir Walter Scott** _

 

 

The ballroom was filled with witches, wizards and various other creatures as the wizarding world celebrated yet again, the fall of Voldemort. Hermione stood at Ron’s side as he and Harry talked about Quidditch with some of the other aurors. Ever so often Ron would glance over at her, an odd light in his eyes as he looked at her. He had been ogling her ever since she had come out of the bedroom that evening. She knew her dress was a bit daring compared to her usual choices. It was black, with a beaded and sequined corset bodice, the skirt was flowing satin that clung to her hips and brushed the tops of her stiletto shod feet. 

 

She had taken extra time with her hair and makeup and she _felt_ pretty and desirable. She had been taking more notice of her appearance of late and she knew it was because of the way Lucius made her feel. It was flattering beyond imagination that a man as attractive and sensual and Lucius wanted her the way he did. It had a very positive affect on her self esteem that was beginning to manifest itself outwardly. She should have been thrilled by her husband’s obvious appreciation, but she found herself unable to enjoy his attention. The heated glances left her feeling cold.

 

She smiled at a waiter who passed her a glass of champagne and as she was raising the glass to her lips she felt the tell tale tingling in her palm. She took a small sip of the bubbly, sweet liquid and scanned the room with her eyes. He was standing near the ballroom doors, his heated gaze resting on her. To say that he was wearing dress robes didn’t quite cover it. Lucius Malfoy didn’t just wear them, on anyone else they were just clothing, on him they were art. He raised his brows slightly and then slipped through the doors.

 

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Hermione handed her champagne to Harry. “I’m just going to find the ladies room.” 

 

“Sure thing, Mione.” Harry said but he wasn’t certain she heard him as she was quickly making her way through the crowd towards the doors. “She looks amazing, Ron.”

 

“Don’t I know it.” Ron said, watching his wife move and thinking how much he missed having her beneath him, taking him into her body. Maybe tonight when they went home…..

 

 

 

Hermione slipped free of the oppressive ballroom and stepped out into the hall. She looked to her left, then to her right where she saw Lucius smirk and head off down another hall. Luckily there weren’t very many people outside milling about as she followed her lover down yet another corridor. She yelped when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her through a door, closing and locking it securely before pressing her back against it.

 

“You look incredible. That gown is a sin.” He growled, running his hands down her sides, caressing her curves.

 

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Her hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders. “We shouldn’t be in….wherever we are….alone.”

 

“It’s a smoking lounge and I needed to get you alone so I could tell you how utterly beautiful you look tonight. You are too beautiful to be on his arm, you should be on mine.” He tucked his finger beneath the thin spaghetti strap and caressed her shoulder. 

 

“Arrogant prat.” She tilted her head to the side as he ran the backs of his fingers up her neck. “What are you doing?”

 

“Touching you. I can’t seem to help myself.” He kissed the pulse pounding at the base of her throat and slowly dragged his tongue up the throbbing vein to the spot just below her ear where he nipped the skin lightly with his teeth. “I’ve been hard as stone since I saw you.” He rocked his pelvis into her, pressing the hard column of his cock against her belly. Immediately she felt the answering rush of wet desire between her thighs. She moaned and curled her nails into the back of his neck. 

 

“Lucius….we can’t….” She protested weakly as he began nibbling along her jaw towards her mouth. 

 

“Like hell we can’t.” He closed his lips over hers, using his teeth to tug at her bottom lip and open her mouth for his tongue. He kissed her hungrily while his hands gathered up the length of her skirt, bunching it at her waist. He held the material up with one hand and used his other to tug on the flimsy excuse for underwear she had on beneath it. He pulled his lips from hers only long enough to tell her to step out of her knickers before he tucked the barely there scrap of silk and lace into his pocket and lifted her by the backs of her thighs. He adjusted her so that her legs were draped over his arms and her back pressed against the door, his hands filled with the plump flesh of her bottom. “Open my trousers.”

 

She reached between them and quickly had his trousers open and her hand filled with long, hot, highly aroused male flesh. She pulled his foreskin back and rubbed the moist tip of him between her folds before pressing him against her opening. He moved his arms, pushing her thighs wide open as he shoved into her fast and hard, her back slamming into the door.

 

“Oh my gods!’ She cried, holding on to his shoulders as though her life depended on it as he took her fast and hard against the door. 

 

“Pull the gown down, I want to see your nipples.” He groaned, never missing a beat as he pummeled her with his erection. She pulled the bodice down, her nipples popping free above the snug material. He had one in his mouth, sucking hard and lashing it with his tongue in seconds. She slid her fingers into his hair, cradling him against her breast as he pumped into her with abandon. He was generally a very tender lover, rarely had he gotten the slightest bit rough with her. Never had he been as out of control as he was in that moment, fucking her furiously up against the door while people roamed the halls outside. 

 

Lucius couldn’t fight the intense need to mark her, to make it so that with every step she took she would still feel him inside her. He hated seeing her with Weasley; it made his stomach turn and made him see red. He had to fight the urge to walk over and drag her away from the undeserving git. He would send her back to Weasley’s side feeling him inside her with every step she took. 

 

“Can’t get enough of you….want you with me….” He grunted, straining into her until she threw her head back against the door, stifling her scream of release as she pulsed around him, sucking his orgasm from him with her tight, wet clasping. He held on to her despite his shaking knees, he refused to drop her. 

 

“Lucius, this was so bad.” She groaned as little aftershocks zipped through her. He grunted in her ear and she chuckled, knowing he didn’t care one whit about whether they were right or wrong or not, he simply wanted her for his own.

 

“I _am_ bad, baby, haven’t you heard?” He drawled, nipping her lips one last time before he withdrew and let her thighs slide down over his hips and back to the floor.

 

“Oh yeah, I suppose I forget about your reputation for evil when you are making love to me so sweetly in the cottage.” She reached for his cane and withdrew his wand, using it to clean herself up and restore her appearance to its pre-fucked state.

 

“Well then I guess this can serve as a reminder.” He leered, pulling her into his arms and kissing her tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

 

“No, Lucius, you didn’t hurt me.” She kissed him, smoothing his hair back into place. “I need to get back before they come looking for me.” 

 

“I should get back too though I doubt my wife gives a damn if I am missing or not.” He smoothed the front of his dress robes and pressed his ear to the door. He opened it just a little and peeked outside. Seeing that the way was clear he gave her a push, sending her on her way back to her husband while he hung back.

 

She re-entered the ballroom to find Ron where she had left him, still talking Quidditch with Harry and the others. She smiled at Harry when he handed back her glass of champagne and averted her eyes when Ron turned to her and winked. 

 

“Hey Mione, there’s Lucius.” Harry said. They all turned to see the bored looking wizard walking around with his wife on his arm. He didn’t appear to be enjoying himself at all, greeting everyone rather coldly while his wife chattered incessantly. In fact, nothing about him was welcoming until he looked at Hermione. Instantly his blue eyes flared and Hermione knew the moment that Harry noticed it because he gasped. 

 

“We should say hello.” Ron said. “He is your boss, it’s only polite.” 

 

Hermione cringed inside as the Malfoy’s approached. There was no way it couldn’t be uncomfortable when not even ten minutes ago she was pressed up against a door with Lucius pounding into her. Even as she stood there her knickers were still in his pocket.

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, how nice to see you.” Ron said, extending his hand politely. Narcissa greeted him with a warm smile and Lucius took his hand, shaking it firmly though he longed to tighten his hold and hear the satisfying crunch of splintering bone.

 

“Mr. Weasley.” Lucius turned to look at Hermione and a feral grin lifted the corner of his mouth a he bent down to kiss her cheek, the tip of his tongue caressing quickly before he pulled back. “You look lovely this evening, Hermione.” No one thought it odd as it was known by both Narcissa and Ron that a friendship had been built between the two. But Harry was watching and the truth of the situation was slowly making itself known to the young man. 

 

“Thank you; are you enjoying your evening?” She asked, unable to keep herself from meeting his intense gaze and feeling a responding pulse deep inside her. 

 

“It has been….delightful thus far.” He smiled. He was oblivious to his wife’s curious perusal of his robes. Narcissa opted not to pay too much attention to the conversation; they weren’t speaking to anyone who mattered, with the exception of Harry Potter though he looked a little put out. She kept catching the glimmer of light reflecting off of a spot on Lucius’s robes. She reached out and plucked a foreign object from his lapel, holding it out on the tip of her gloved finger.

 

“What is that?” Ron asked curiously as he leaned forward to examine it. He and Narcissa both straightened at the same time, their smiles faltering as they looked at Hermione then at Lucius, then back down to Narcissa’s hand. There, resting on the end of her gloved finger was a small black sequin matching the ones on Hermione’s dress. Ron clenched his fists at his side and looked between his wife and her employer.

 

“What in the bloody hell is going on between you two?”


	23. Confession: The Weasleys

****

**Chapter 23: Confession : The Weasley’s**

_**Maybe coming clean is the ultimate selfish act. A way to absolve yourself by hurting someone who doesn't deserve to be hurt.  
Cindy Chupack, Sex and the City, Don't Ask, Don't Tell, 2000** _

THE WEASLEYS

Hermione stumbled into the house, her face streaked with tears as Ron followed her inside and slammed the door behind them. She said nothing because she didn’t know what to say. She just kept seeing the look on his face when he realized the truth. How could something as tiny as that little sequin cause everything to come crashing down? She closed her eyes and replayed the scene for the hundredth time in the last hour.

 

_”What in the bloody hell is going on between you two?” Ron asked, his eyes darting back and forth between them. “Oh god…” He took a step back as he saw the truth on their faces._

_“Oh, Mione…you didn’t…please tell me you didn’t.” Harry said, shock and disappointment registering on his face._

_“This is not the time nor is it the place for this.” Lucius said sternly, he didn’t want a scene. He didn’t give a damn about himself, he just didn’t want Hermione publicly humiliated._

_“You! You son of a bitch!” Ron’s wand was out in a flash. “Stupefy!” Lucius was hit square in the chest by the spell and it sent him flying backwards several feet where he skidded to the floor._

_“Ron! No!” Hermione screamed, reaching for him. He shrugged her off, more roughly than he intended to and she was thrown to the floor. Everyone watched in wide eyed amazement as Lucius growled and got to his feet.. Everyone expected him to pull his wand but he never bothered to pick it up, he was across the room in a flash, his fist connecting with Ron’s nose._

_“Hurt her again and so help me I WILL kill you, Weasley!” He intoned low and menacingly. Harry had stepped between them, reverting into auror mode as he pulled the wizards apart._

_“Enough! This is not the place! Both of you collect your wives and go home, deal with your business in private!” Harry snapped. Lucius adjusted his robes and grabbed Narcissa by the arm. He looked down at Hermione and whispered to her softly._

_“Are you alright?”_

_“Just go, Lucius…I will be fine.” He nodded curtly and dragged Narcissa from the ballroom. Ron hadn’t even looked at her as he jerked out of Harry’s grasp and motioned angrily for her to go before him. She left the ballroom with her head hung in shame._

 

She sat on the sofa, her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. Ron went to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of beer clutched tightly in his hand. He paced angrily in front of the fireplace, roughly tugging his tie loose and popping the buttons on his shirt collar. He threw his robes on the floor, he didn’t care that they were dangerously close to the fire. 

 

“How long?” He asked finally. His voice strained.

 

“Since just before Christmas.” She vowed that she would answer every one of his questions honestly. 

 

“That long?” Ron looked at her, shocked to discover that the affair had been going on so long. “You…are….are you…have you had sex with him?”

 

“Yes.” She sobbed, unable to look up. 

 

“Fucking hell, Hermione…when you went to the ladies room….were you with him? Is that how the pieces of your gown ended up on his robes?” He asked, his stomach hurting as the truth came out.

 

“Yes.” She was sobbing, her head ducked down.

 

“I can’t believe this….Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy? You’ve been fucking a deatheater behind my back!” His anger bubbled over and he threw the beer bottle into the fireplace, the glass shattering made her jump and look up. “Why?”

 

She didn’t say anything, she was frightened, she had never seen him look so angry in all the years she had known him. He grabbed her by the arm and jerked her up from the sofa, pulling her against him so that they were nose to nose.

 

“Tell me why gods damn it! Tell me why you spread your legs for that bastard when you wouldn’t let me so much as kiss your lips!” He shouted.

 

“I don’t know.” She stammered, not knowing quite how to react to this other side of him.

 

“Don’t lie to me anymore, Hermione. Tell me the truth, all of it.” He shook her hard, her teeth snapping together from the force of it. “Why were you fucking Lucius Malfoy?”

 

“Because he looked at me.” She whispered. “He saw me, he talked to me, he was there for me and you weren’t.” Ron let go of her abruptly as though she had burned him. He stepped back, the look on his face a mix of pain, horror and confusion. Hermione took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “You want to know, I will tell you everything.” 

 

Ron sat down slowly on the ottoman and looked up at her, his chest aching as he debated on whether he wanted to know the truth of it or not. 

 

“We were just friends in the beginning. We had lunch every day and spent a little time together walking along the lake in the afternoon or playing with his hounds. It was all very platonic. Then you began staying out later and later, he would see the owls come every day and he could see how much they hurt me and I began to confide in him. Then came Oliver’s birthday, It broke my heart that you cancelled on me. Lucius, who had no connection to our son what so ever, accompanied me to his grave. He even brought him a bear and flowers. He talked to me for the longest time about Oliver and he held me while I cried for my baby. Things changed after that. You were never there but he was and he wanted me. And forgive me for being weak but I wanted him too, I wanted to be wanted and I fell into his arms. He offered me warmth, comfort and companionship when you withheld it from me. I know what I did was wrong, but I couldn’t resist him and I couldn’t stop it, and I didn’t want to.”

 

“You took him to my son’s grave?” Ron choked on the words, his eyes filling with tears. “You took your lover to our child’s grave?”

 

“He wasn’t my lover then so no, my friend accompanied me to visit my son on his birthday when his father was who knows where doing who knows what with who knows who!” She was growing angry now though she knew that in all truth she had no right. She was the one in the wrong, she was the one who had cheated on her husband and betrayed her marriage. 

 

“I wasn’t out fucking someone else! I was working and when I wasn’t working I was sitting in a pub drinking because I just can’t stand being here knowing that we built this home for Oliver and he never even stepped foot inside!” He was clenching and unclenching his hands, words spilling from his mouth hoarsely as he cried. “I didn’t know what to do…I still don’t know what to do to make it right. I didn’t know how to fix it, how to make you happy. I wanted to, I wanted desperately to make you happy, Hermione but all you did was cry and cry and I couldn’t stand it. When you went back to work I didn’t like it, I didn’t want you working for the Malfoys but you seemed so excited about it I just kept my mouth shut. Then you started smiling again. You were singing and you were laughing and you were happy. I suspected…but Harry made it sound ridiculous, I mean you and Lucius? God I can’t believe I was right…..I can’t ….Lucius? Jesus Christ, Hermione! Of all the people….did you enjoy it?”

“Ron, don’t…”

“I tried to make love to you and you pushed me away, said you couldn’t, you weren’t ready….yet you fucked him….did you enjoy it? I need to know, tell me the truth.” He demanded. He was a masochist for asking her and he knew he wouldn’t like the answer but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

 

“Yes. I enjoyed it.” She said honestly. 

 

“Better than me?” He asked. Hermione felt her gut clench. She had hurt him so badly and she didn’t want to hurt him anymore so she lied.

 

“Not better, just different.” She said. “What do you want to do?”

 

“I want to kill Lucius fucking Malfoy!” He said, raking his fingers through his hair. 

 

“I meant about us, Ron. What do you want to do about us, about our marriage?” She asked. He wiped his hand over his face and looked up at her, tears were clinging to her lashes and her cheeks were flushed with emotion. He loved her. As angry as he was at her, at the situation, he loved her still.

 

“What do you want, Hermione? Do you want a divorce? Do you want Lucius?” He asked.

 

“Lucius is married, Ron, it isn’t even a consideration. We never intended anything between us to be more than it was, an affair.” She said bluntly. Ron looked at her and he was disappointed in her but he couldn’t imagine his life without her. What happened wasn’t only her fault, he had played his part in pushing her to a point where she had been vulnerable enough to fall for the temptation of a man like Lucius. 

 

“I don’t want to lose you, Hermione, I love you.” He said, reaching for her hand and pulling her into his lap. “I cant…I don’t understand how we got here, I really don’t.” 

 

“What do you want me to do?” She asked softly.

 

“For one you no longer work for Lucius Malfoy. You are never to see him again, Hermione, ever. If you see him in public I want you to leave, I don’t care where you are.” He said firmly. “For two…we need to talk, about us, about the baby, about our future and what we want. We can work through this, baby, I know we can.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “Tell me you won’t see him again.”

 

“I won’t see him again.” She said, her heart aching with every word. Ron put his arms around her and laid his head against her chest. She embraced him, but her heart wasn’t in it. She thought of Lucius and never seeing him again and she began to cry, her fragile heart breaking all over again in order to save her marriage.


	24. Confession: The Malfoys

****

**Chapter 24: Confession : The Malfoys**

_**Do Not be angry with me if I tell you the truth – Socrates** _

 

Lucius was swearing under his breath as he stormed into his study and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. He called for a servant as he poured a large glass of whiskey and demanded a bowl of ice. He flexed his hand repeatedly, his knuckles aching and bruised. He could heal them with a simple spell but he felt a certain satisfaction in the pain. If Potter hadn’t stepped in he would have happily beat Weasley to a pulp for tossing Hermione about the way he had.

 

The evening hadn’t gone at all as planned. He had definitely not intended for anyone to find out about he and Hermione. He wasn’t ashamed and he didn’t feel guilty for it, not that anyone would expect him to. In fact he would wager a guess that no one was surprised that he would have an affair with another man’s wife, but she was a different story, the gossip was going to hurt her and he couldn’t stand it.

 

“How dare you humiliate me that way in public!” Narcissa stormed through the study doors, her face red with anger. He rolled his eyes and went to sit behind his desk, shoving his battered knuckles into the bowl of ice his servant placed on his desk.

 

“I am not in the mood to listen to you right now, Narcissa.” She stopped in her tracks. Lucius hadn’t spoken to her like that in years. She got over the shock quickly and slammed her hands down on his desk.

 

“I don’t care what you are in the mood for! The entire wizarding world knows that you were cavorting with that mudblood librarian of yours!” Her voice had a tendency to get shrill when she was angry and it hurt Lucius’s ears.

 

“No one _knows_ anything, they assume they know.” He sighed; he knew it was going to be a long night. “Might as well get this over with.” He leaned back in his chair, taking the bowl of ice with him. “I’m sorry you were humiliated, Narcissa.”

 

“No you aren’t! You are only sorry that your little librarian got her precious feelings hurt!” Lucius was watching her, his eyes narrowed. Her skin was mottled in her rage and her shrill voice reminded him of temper tantrums Draco would throw when he didn’t get his way as a small boy. 

 

“You know nothing of how I feel. You haven’t given a damn about my feelings in ten years so don’t pretend that you understand them now.” He kept his voice low and even.

 

“You aren’t sorry for any of it are you?” Her face was a mask of incredulity. “You don’t regret having an affair at all do you?”

 

“No.” He answered so quickly, so succinctly that she actually jolted.

 

“You were carrying on right here in these rooms weren’t you?” She shook her head slowly, a grin on her face that had nothing to do with happiness. “You were sporting with that little trollop in my house. With me here. And you didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for it.”

 

“To begin with, this is MY house. Hermione is NOT a trollop and no, I didn’t feel guilty at all. Why should I? You certainly didn’t want any part of me, I figured you would appreciate the fact that I wasn’t availing myself of your oh so generous offers to share your bed.” He propped his feet up on the desk and saw the annoyance on her face.

 

“You can not speak to me like this!” She stamped her foot and he nearly laughed.

 

“I am tired of your spoiled behavior, Narcissa, and I do not feel like dealing with it anymore.” He said, dropping his feet back to the floor and tossing the bowl onto the desk, spilling ice everywhere.

 

“My behavior? You dare to comment on MY behavior when you have been caught fornicating with a mudblood? Another man’s wife! You have no right…”

 

“I have every right! I have been ignored, insulted, disrespected and denied affection from you for the last ten years and I allowed it because I felt guilty for what I brought into our lives, for the choices I made that hurt this family and for almost costing my only child his life. I ALLOWED your behavior because I thought it was what I deserved. You knew it too, you knew that I felt horrible and that all I wanted was your forgiveness and you withheld it deliberately.” He was nearly snarling at her as he leaned over his desk. He shoved away and walked to the open library doors and stared inside at the empty room. “I was content with my punishment…until she came along. She acknowledged me, accepted me. She who had no reason to, _forgave_ me when my sins against her were unforgivable. I stood by and watched that insane sister of yours slice her young body with a blade and did nothing, yet she forgave me for it.”

 

“From the sounds of things she did a whole lot more than forgive you.” Narcissa sneered. 

 

“You know nothing about it, Narcissa.” He said quietly. 

 

“What is it you think I don’t know? You were having sex with that little tart. I’ve had sex, Lucius, remember? There is nothing about you and sex that I don’t know about.” She scoffed.

 

“There is plenty you don’t know about me, Narcissa, even after all these years.” He turned slowly and stared at her. What had happened to the love he once felt for her? When did it fade away? When was his sweet, complacent bride replaced with this spoiled harpy? “What I had with her was nowhere near the cold, emotionless couplings I shared with you.” He wanted to hurt her, to get back at her for her years of hostility. He could feel bits of the man he used to be emerging, traces of the old evil surging through his veins.

 

“Oh don’t play that hand with me, Lucius. You couldn’t wait to share my bed from the moment we married. If it was so bad then why did you keep coming back again and again?” His words pricked her pride.

 

“Because once upon a time I loved you and I felt it was important to remain faithful to the vows I made to you, even when you shut me out.” He said. 

 

“It didn’t last though, did it, Lucius?” She leaned back against his desk and folded her arms across her chest, he could tell that it gave her a thrill to know that her treatment of him had hurt him, had made him unhappy, it made her feel powerful.

 

“A man can only take so many nights in bed with a frigid woman before he grows weary and restless.” He fired, his arrow hitting its mark and causing her face to flush.

 

“So you jump on the first bit of fluff that waggles her tail in your direction, very classy, Lucius.” She was angry, seriously angry.

 

“Bit of fluff? Hermione? That’s rich.” Lucius chuckled. “And she waggled nothing in my direction, unlike any number of other witches in the past, your sister included. I didn’t take any of them up on their offers.”

 

“Then why her? You’ve had all these years, all these women who wanted you…why did you choose the frumpy married mudblood librarian?” She asked. She really did want to know the answer because as she looked at the younger woman, while she was passably pretty, she was nothing glorious to look at.

 

“I don’t expect _you_ to understand, but it has nothing to do with appearance. It was something far deeper than surface.” He said.

 

“Oh dear lord!” Narcissa gasped, her eyes wide. “You are in love with her aren’t you?”

 

“Why do you care?” He didn’t deny it. 

 

“Oh how the mighty have fallen.” She shook her head. “Lucius Malfoy, wealthy pureblood and top death eater is in love with a mudblood.” Narcissa’s lovely features twisted into something ugly. “You can’t have her.”

 

“Do not tell me what I can and can not do, Narcissa.” Lucius warned.

 

“You CANT have her. Even if she and that Weasley were to split you can never have her. Do you know why?” She stepped closer to him and fisted her hand in the front of his robes. “Because she makes you happy. I saw it, Draco saw it, you changed when she came. And because she makes you happy I will make certain you can not have her. I will never give you a divorce, Lucius, NEVER. I intend to spend the rest of our lives seeing to it that you are miserable.” She let go of his robes and with an arrogant swish of her skirts she left the room.


	25. A Life Without Love

****

**Chapter 25: A Life Without Love**

**_A life without love is no life at all_ **

 

 

Two months had passed since that dreadful evening at the ministry celebration. Actually it had been sixty-eight days, seventeen hours and approximately thirty-four minutes. Hermione had done as Ronald had asked her. She never went back to the manor to finish the job she began and she hadn’t seen or spoken to Lucius since she bade him goodbye that night. But she thought of him and she knew by the tingle in her palm that he was thinking of her too.

 

She was miserable. She felt trapped within the walls of her home, a prisoner. She pretended that she was content with her life, that all was well and that she wanted to make amends for what she had done, but in her heart she knew it for a lie. She was simply going through the motions, doing what was familiar and what was expected of her. She tried telling herself that she was doing the right thing, what she felt for Lucius had been just a flash in the pan and would ease with time. 

 

So far it hadn’t eased at all. She missed him. She missed having lunch with him, talking with him and laughing, walking along the lake, and yes, she missed those lazy afternoons in the cottage making love and just being together. But she had made a commitment to Ron and it was only right that she stick by it. It wasn’t easy, she could barely stand to be in the same room with him at times and she absolutely could not stand to have him touch her. 

 

He took offense to the fact that she would not sleep with him, especially since she had been sleeping with Lucius. She used the excuse that she was feeling badly for what happened and she just wasn’t ready but it wasn’t the truth. She felt badly that she had hurt Ron but she didn’t feel bad for a single moment spent in Lucius’s arms. He grudgingly accepted her reasoning and slept on the couch, but it didn’t stop him from trying to sway her.

 

She glanced down at her watch and then back to the door of the little café. She smiled and gave Harry a slight wave as he pushed through the crowd and fell into the seat across from her.

 

“So sorry I’m late.” He said out of breath. He saw that she had already ordered his favorite cappuccino and smiled. “Not wasting time I see.”

 

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” She said softly, smiling at her friend. Harry took a drink of his coffee and sat back in his chair.

 

“Well, as much as I love you, Hermione, you look like death warmed over.” He said sadly. She was pale with dark circles beneath her eyes. Her curls were pulled back from her face haphazardly into a bun and she was dressed in a black tracksuit despite the fact that it was the middle of summer. She looked as she had those first months after Oliver died. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

 

“What’s to tell? You know what happened.” She said, looking down into her cup.

 

“But I don’t know the story. You have yet to tell me.” He said, reaching across the table for her hand. “Hey, look at me. This is me you are talking to; I love you no matter what. I know I’ve not been the best friend lately, things have been insane, but I am here for you. Tell me what happened.”

 

“I had an affair with Lucius Malfoy, that’s the story.” She said, looking away.

 

“Don’t try to hide from me, Hermione. I know you better than that.” He gave her hand a squeeze to reassure her.

 

“I was lonely and sad and Lucius was too…we kept each other company and made each other happy and it turned into something more.” Tears welled in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall as she gave Harry a sad little smile.

 

“I won’t lie to you and tell you I approve, but I understand.” He said.

 

“Do you?” 

 

“Hermione, everyone faces temptation.” He hated seeing her so sad. “Sometimes in a weak moment we give into it. I’ve been there, right after the war I had women throwing themselves at me left and right and there were moments when I wanted to catch them.”

 

“But you didn’t, I _DID_.” She pulled her hand from his.

 

“I can’t pretend to understand what you were going through, Hermione. Losing the baby…”

 

“Oliver, Harry. His name is Oliver. Why does everyone forget that?” She asked.

 

“I’m sorry, losing Oliver put you in a vulnerable position and Lucius took advantage of that.” Harry said.

 

“No, he didn’t.” She said, sitting back in her chair. “Everyone wants to blame Lucius for this! He didn’t seduce me or take advantage of me. I CHOSE to be with him, Harry. I WANTED to be with him! He was there for me when no one else was and he speaks of my son by name, he doesn’t dance around it. Do you not understand how much I needed someone, anyone to acknowledge Oliver? Lucius did that. I know you will never understand it, but….I _feel_ when I am with him. I walk around numb to everything but when I am with him I feel.” 

 

“You’re in love with him.” Harry whispered, stunned by the realization. Hermione turned her face away and stared out the window. “What about Ron?”

 

“I will always love Ron. I am still with him, aren’t I?” 

 

“But you aren’t in love with him anymore, you are living a lie.” Harry slid his chair around to her side of the table and put his arm around her shoulders turning her to face him. “You are miserable. Look at you, you are wasting away.”

 

“What would you have me do, Harry?” She looked so hopeless that it broke his heart.

 

“I just want you to be happy, Mione. I love you and Ron together but I hate seeing you like this.” He said, hugging her close.

 

“We don’t always get what we want, Harry, sometimes we just have to make due with what we have.” She said, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt the tingling in the palm of her hand and she began to cry.

 

****

**~@~**

Hermione finished her coffee with Harry and with a hug and a kiss on the cheek she said goodbye at the public apparation spot at the end of Diagon Alley. She started to go home but decided a trip to the bookshop sounded lovely and headed down the side street that would take her there. As she rounded the corner she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and jerk her between two of the buildings. She was about to scream when she felt a pair of warm, familiar lips on hers.

 

Her scream died into a low whimper as she melted against Lucius as he kissed her, his hands cupping the sides of her face as he worshipped her mouth with his. He kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, as if his life depended on the feel of her lips against his. It was only the necessity for a decent breath that pulled them apart.

 

“I’m not supposed to see you.” She whispered, reaching up with shaking fingers to stroke his brow.

 

“I couldn’t _not_ see you. I thought I was dreaming when I saw you walking with Potter, then you were alone and coming this way and … my god I have missed you.” He said, pressing his lips to hers again briefly, firmly. 

 

“I miss you too.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself close to him.

 

“I need to see you, alone; I need to talk to you.” He hugged her tightly and he could feel that she had lost weight since he held her last. She was just as miserable as he was.

 

“Lucius, we can’t….I promised I wouldn’t see you….”

 

“I don’t give a damn about promises! This isn’t working, Hermione, we need to be together. Meet me.” He was gripping her upper arms tightly, lifting her onto her toes and holding against the front of him.

 

“We can’t!”

 

“Meet me or I swear on all that is holy I will walk right up to your front door and knock…”

 

“Okay….I’ll meet you. Where?” She felt him relax and his hold on her arms eased.

 

“Tomorrow, meet me in the cottage tomorrow.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear then bent to kiss her again.

 

“Tomorrow….our place.” She whispered against his lips. 

 

“I need you, Hermione…please don’t stand me up.” He brushed his thumb over her lip. “Tomorrow….everything will change tomorrow.”

 

“We are so in the wrong but I can’t seem to help myself.” She nipped at his thumb then ran her tongue over it. “I’ve got to go before someone sees us….tomorrow, Lucius.” She rose up and kissed him then hurried down the small alley and back into the throng of people.

 

“Tomorrow.” He said on deep breath. Tomorrow would change everything.


	26. All For Love

****

**Chapter 26: All For Love**

**_”Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, it's what you are expected to give -- which is everything." – Anonymous_ **

 

 

Lucius paced nervously in front of the window of his hunting box. He smiled, Hermione always called it “the cottage” because she thought hunting box was too unromantic. He was a nervous wreck as he waited for her to arrive. He had never been so nervous about anything in his life. 

 

His head came up sharply when he heard the front door open and then there she was, standing in the doorway and it was as if everything wrong in the world had set itself to right. They went for each other at the same time, meeting in the middle of the room and wrapping themselves around the other. They kissed, embraced and just held each other as though their lives depended on it.

 

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” He said against her ear.

 

“I couldn’t stay away.” She pulled back and looked up into his eyes. “What are we going to do, Lucius?”

 

“That’s why we are here….to decide.” He took her hand and pulled her to the sofa where he sat facing her, one leg drawn up on the cushions between them. 

 

“To decide? Decide what?” She reached for his hand and pulled it into her lap. She had been too long without him and she needed to be touching him as much as she possibly could.

 

“I love you.” He said softly, bringing her hand to his lips. “I love you and I am not willing to give you up.”

 

“Lucius…oh god…” She crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you…I do…I love you too.” She rained kisses over his face and neck. 

 

“I am so happy to hear you say that.” He groaned. “Because there is something I wish to discuss with you.” She lifted her head and smiled down at him and his heart nearly stopped.

 

“Can it wait?” She asked, her voice low and seductive.

 

“No…it’s important.” He took her hand and rested it against his chest. “Hermione, I love you and as I said I am not willing to give you up. I am also not willing to share you. I am leaving Narcissa and I want you to leave Ron.” 

 

She couldn’t breathe. She had expected him to ask her to sneak out and see him, to resume their relationship; she hadn’t expected him to ask her to change her entire life. 

 

“Breathe, Hermione.” Lucius blew in her face and she gasped, her eyes wide and blinking rapidly. 

 

“You’re leaving….you want me….Lucius, oh my god.” Her voice became shrill at the end and she cringed at the sound of it. “I don’t know…what…”

 

“Are you happy? Because I am not and I haven’t been for a very long time.” 

 

“But Lucius…you are talking about leaving your wife of over thirty years and asking me to walk away from a ten year marriage. For what exactly?” She slid from his lap and walked on shaky legs to the window. She pushed it open and stuck her head out, breathing deeply of the fresh air.

 

“For a chance to be happy, together.” When she looked back at him it was with disbelief. “Don’t look at me that way, Hermione. I didn’t come to this decision on a whim, I have thought about it and thought about it and there is no doubt in my mind that this is what I want. I have changed and as a result what I want for my life has also changed. I want to be happy and I want to be happy with you.” 

 

She couldn’t help it; his words melted her a little. But the fear rose up. He was offering her something she never believed they could have, a life together. But was she brave enough to reach out and take it?

 

“This is…I don’t know what to think! This sort of thing never happens…men don’t leave their wives for their mistresses!” She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying in vain to organize her thoughts. “Do you have any idea what kind of scandal this would be?”

 

“I do and I don’t care. I have endured worse.” He said, watching her as she paced back and forth. “If you are happy then simply say so and I will leave you be”

 

“You know I am not happy, Lucius. Everyone knows, look at me!” She said, gesturing towards herself. “But how, how can we just walk away?”

 

“Because for once we are going to think about ourselves. We are going to put ourselves first and do what makes US happy.” He caught her hand when she paced by him and pulled her into his lap. “Tell me that the days we spent here in this cottage just the two of us, the rest of the world forgotten, tell me that those days weren’t among your happiest.”

 

“I can’t…it would be a lie.” She touched her lips to his lightly and sighed. “So we walk away and then what?”

 

“Then you and I live our lives, together, whatever that means.” He cupped the back of her head and held her still, their lips nearly touching. “Come with me. Leave the misery behind and come with me. I love you; give me the chance to show you how much.” 

 

“Lucius…are you sure…this is a big decision and it will change everything. We will be social pariahs….” He kissed her into silence, his fingers stroking her cheek.

 

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care to socialize anymore, I no longer give a damn about society or my place in it and I know you aren’t big on it yourself. I want a quiet life…alone…with you.” He kissed her again, his tongue flicking lightly at her lips. “Please, come with me.” 

 

“I love you.” She whispered, her lips parting for his. He laid her back on the sofa cushions, following her down and covering her with his body. He undressed her slowly, his lips caressing every inch of her that he bared. He slid between her thighs, entering her on a groan as her body welcomed him home. 

 

He moved with a gentle urgency between her thighs, the need to reclaim her warring with the need to show her how much he loved her. He had missed those sweet sounds of pleasure that spilled from her lips when they made love. Tiny whimpering moans and those low throaty groans and the sweet keening song of release that would echo in his ears for hours after. 

 

“Hold me tighter.” He growled, sliding his arms beneath her so that they were flush against each other. She clung to his shoulders, her legs coming around his waist. “I love you.” He whispered, rolling his hips against her and increasing the pace of his loving as he urged them closer to release. “Tell me, Hermione; tell me that you are mine.”

 

Her back arched beneath him as he moved deeply within her. She felt possessed, completely consumed by the man above her professing his love. And she loved him, she wasn’t sure how she had come to that point but she loved him. 

 

“I…oh god yes….yours…I am yours…” He slammed into her, his ass flexing beneath her crossed ankles as he plumbed her depths. “I love you, Lucius.” She sobbed just before she stiffened in his arms, her body bowing and her thighs shaking as orgasm overtook her.

 

“God yes!” Lucius shouted, pushing deep and holding himself still inside her as he flooded her womb with his seed. He jerked and shuddered above her until the pulsing ceased and he relaxed against her. They were both panting heavily as they lay wrapped in each other on the sofa. Lucius reached for her hand, lightly tracing her palm with his fingertips and watching the tiny heart glow and feeling the magic binding them strengthen. “I love you, like I have never loved another. I will make you happy, Hermione, you will never regret this, I promise.”


	27. End of the Weasleys

****

**Chapter Twenty Seven: End of the Weasleys**

**_I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. ~Gilda Radner_ **

 

 

Hermione sat at the kitchen table and waited patiently for Ron to get home. She was nervous and her stomach ached with what she was about to do. Hurting him was never what she wanted but she also didn’t want to live the lie. She was being selfish and she knew that. She had committed a sin against him, against her vows and she would walk through life forever labeled as an adulteress but at least she would not be living a lie. 

 

She heard the front door open and close and she felt as though she may vomit. Within seconds he was walking into the kitchen, his hair mussed and his eyes bleary from a long day at work. 

 

“Are we getting take away tonight?” He asked, looking around the immaculate kitchen and realizing there was no dinner.

 

“Sit down, Ron.” She said quietly, pushing a chair out with her foot. Ron looked at her and he could see on her face that it was going to be one of _those_ talks. He slid into the chair and watched her eyes drop to her hands folded on the table in front of her. 

 

“What’s going on here, Hermione?” He asked.

 

“I can’t do this, Ron.” She said quietly. “I am leaving.”

 

“You’re leaving? What do you mean you’re leaving?” He was confused and quickly growing angry.

 

“My things have already been packed and moved out of the house. I am asking for nothing, you can keep the house and everything in it.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I had the nursery cleared out and all of Oliver’s things were donated…to make it easier for you to be here.”

 

“You’ve packed? You moved out?” She could hear his teeth grinding. “You don’t want anything? Because you don’t need anything, right? Lucius has more than enough money to provide you with everything.”

 

“Ron, don’t…”

 

“I am right, aren’t I? You are leaving me for him?” He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his elbows on the table, his face buried in his hands. “When did you see him?”

 

“Yesterday and today.” She answered truthfully. “We ran into each other accidentally in Diagon Alley.”

 

“Did you accidentally fall into his bed?” Ron spat, his anger bubbling to the surface.

 

“Don’t be vulgar, Ron.” She rebuked.

 

“Vulgar? You don’t think leaving your husband for the man you’ve been shagging behind his back is vulgar?” He laughed, but it was a mocking sound void of mirth. 

 

“I readily admit that what has taken place between Lucius and I is wrong. I betrayed you, our marriage, my own morals…but what is done is done and because of it I am changed and my life must change as well.” She said.

 

“Don’t you love me at all?” He looked up at her with pleading eyes and she felt the tears spill over. 

 

“I do. I will always love you, Ron.” She reached out for his hand and he saw that her wedding rings were missing.

 

“What happened, Mione? Where did we go wrong?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the empty place where she once wore the symbol that declared her his. 

 

“We didn’t go wrong. Our love just ran its course. When I look back I can see that the strain was there as we struggled for a child. Losing Oliver pushed us apart and there was just no coming back from that.” She said. “You and I went in separate directions and now we are different people, we need different things from a relationship.”

 

“And you think you can get that from Malfoy?” He asked, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you are leaving me for a death eater.”

 

“He is a changed man.” She didn’t want to get too defensive about Lucius; it felt almost like she was flaunting it in his face.

 

“Do you love him?” He asked, glutton for punishment.

 

“Yes.” She felt no need to elaborate on that, there was no need to be cruel when she was already breaking his heart. 

 

“What can he offer you, Hermione? What kind of life do you….” He sat back and slid his hand from hers. “He’s leaving his wife. He is leaving his wife for you.” He couldn’t believe it. Lucius Malfoy was actually in love with Hermione and was going to leave his wife of over thirty years to be with her. “I’ll be damned.” 

 

She laid her hands in her lap and stared at the table as Ron processed the information. She still couldn’t quite believe it herself. 

 

“Do you know what people will say?” He asked. He wasn’t worried about himself, the press would be kind to him given he was the wronged party. She would be crucified. 

 

“I know. I am prepared for it and so is Lucius. We deserve it, we know that.” She said. 

 

“So what now?” He asked.

 

“Tomorrow morning I will go the Ministry of Magic and I will file the paperwork for dissolution of marriage. I will be going away for a time until things calm down and are settled.” She said. “Ron…I never wanted to hurt you, I hope you know that. I hope that you see I never planned this…of all people I never planned to feel this way for him.” 

 

“I want you to be happy, Hermione. It is all I ever wanted since we were kids. I had hoped that it would be with me but if it isn’t I don’t want to hold you back. I love you, I will always love you, but I won’t hold you here.” Saying the words hurt more than he could express, but they were true, he just wanted her to happy.

 

“I want the same for you, Ron. You should move on, find someone and love again. You should go see Oliver, you need closure there.” She stood and took one last look around the home she had created with him. “After some time apart I hope that we can be friends again, Ron. We shared so much of our lives together; we share a child, that will bind us forever.”

 

“Maybe someday.” He said quietly. He closed his eyes and felt her lips brush against his temple.

 

“I won’t say goodbye, so until we meet again, take care of yourself.” He didn’t open his eyes as she walked away. When he heard the sound of the door closing he laid his head on the table and he wept.


	28. End of the Malfoys

****

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: End of the Malfoys**

_**Moving on, is a simple thing, it’s the leaving behind that is hard.- Dave Mustaine** _

 

Lucius sat behind his desk, a cool mask of indifference on his face as he watched his wife and son settle across from him. Both of them looked wary, family meetings were not a common occurrence in the Malfoy household. Draco couldn’t recall the last time they had all sat down together to have a conversation. He saw a thick file lying in the center of his father’s desk and his curiosity became almost unbearable.

 

“I have called you here because what I am about to say will affect you both greatly.” Lucius began, folding his hands on top of his desk. “I doubt that it has been a secret that I am not exactly a happy man and I have not been for a very long time. Life with the Dark Lord and my subsequent punishment have left me cold and emotionally numb, therefore I was willing to continue to live in misery. That has changed now.” He looked at Narcissa and he could see the realization beginning to dawn. “I am filing for dissolution of our bond come morning.”

 

Draco felt his stomach drop as he stared in disbelief at his father. He couldn’t quite process what he had just heard. He looked at his mother and saw the glare of contempt directed across the desk. He knew his mother had punished his father unfairly over the years and had used him on more than one occasion as a weapon against him. He felt for his father, but she _was_ his mother, she was fragile and delicate, she needed him, she told him so every day. 

 

“You think I will let you go so easily so you can run to her?” Narcissa spat, venom dripping from her every word. “No, you will NOT leave me, Lucius Malfoy, I forbid it.”

 

“You have no say in this, Narcissa. I have been meeting with my solicitors and barristers over the last few weeks and I do not need your approval or even your consent. You may drag this through the courts if you wish, but in the end I will still be leaving you.” He knew he sounded callous and unfeeling, but it was the only way she would understand. Regardless of his cold exterior it wasn’t easy for him to walk away. Once upon a time he had loved her greatly, but time, life and hardship had slowly killed that love. His biggest regret was hurting his son, no matter what anyone believed he loved his child deeply. 

 

“Father…why?” Draco knew the answer, but needed to hear his father say the words. 

 

“I know this is difficult for you, Draco. It is never easy for a child to witness the separation of his parents no matter what the age. I haven’t been happy for so long, Draco. I have a chance for happiness and I am not willing to walk away from it.” He said simply.

 

“With Hermione Weasley?” He couldn’t believe it. His father was leaving his wife, his life, everything he had ever known and believed in for a life with a muggleborn. 

 

“Come morning she will be Hermione Granger again.” Lucius answered.

 

“And how long before she becomes Hermione Malfoy?” Narcissa sneered. “You are such an old fool, Lucius. Do you really think that marrying a younger woman is going to make a difference? She will grow weary of you in time just as I did and you will once more be miserable. Will you find another young thing to warm your bed then as well?”

 

“Narcissa, you have it wrong as usual.” He shook his head sadly. “I never set out looking for a woman, younger or otherwise, to warm my bed. I simply hired a woman who was qualified, over qualified if I am honest, to restore my library. The rest just happened.”

 

“And instead she restored your libido.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

 

“No. She offered me friendship when you denied it. She offered me companionship when you wouldn’t even look at me. She gave me forgiveness while you withheld yours and lorded it over me. Yes, she offered me affection when you wouldn’t even touch me. You want to make this sordid and all about sex but it isn’t. Sex is such a minor part of what she and I share.” He looked at her pityingly. “She makes me happy, Narcissa. I hope that one day you find someone to make you feel this way.”

 

“Your parents would be turning over in their graves! Leaving your _pureblood_ wife for a filthy little…”

 

“Don’t say it, Narcissa. Do not disparage her because I will not tolerate it. Say what you will about me, I deserve it. I know I was wrong, I know I broke our vows and I take full responsibility for it, but she doesn’t deserve to be slandered.” Lucius said firmly.

 

“Doesn’t deserve it? SHE STOLE MY HUSBAND!” Narcissa shrieked. Draco actually winced at the sound but remained quiet. 

 

“She didn’t steal anything. I should have gone long ago but it was easier to stay. I felt I deserved your abuse so I took it. She has shown me the power of forgiveness.” Lucius smiled and rubbed his fingertips gently when he felt the tingling of awareness. 

 

“So…you love her then?” Draco asked, unsure of himself. He kept thinking that he should be angry, indignant and defensive of his mother but he couldn’t seem to think clearly. 

 

“Yes, I love her and she loves me.” Lucius heard the angry mutterings from Narcissa and ignored them. “I have made arrangements I would like to discuss with you.”

 

“You are really leaving aren’t you?” Draco was in shock. He just couldn’t fathom that his father was leaving his mother for his mistress. 

 

“I am really leaving.” He said gently. “I am taking my personal belongings and the contents of my library as well as my hounds and horses. The manor normally would pass to you at the time of my death but I have decided to hand it over to you now. There is an account set up for the maintenance of the property as well as an account for you, Narcissa, that will be managed by Draco. You may continue to live in this house with Draco for as long as you like. I will retain ownership of the vacation homes in Tuscany and the Shetlands as you have never stepped foot in either of them. You may have the villa in France and the London townhouse. I have been very generous with your financial settlement but it is final. As I stated before, you may drag this through court if you like but you would not get close to what I have provided for you in a court ordered settlement.”

 

“And just what am I supposed to say when this gets out? What am I to say to people?” She asked angrily. Lucius smirked slightly and slid the file containing the deeds and account information to his son. 

 

“You will be the victim here, Narcissa. Your horrible death eater husband has done the unthinkable and left you for a younger woman. You shall be the abused party and society will fall at your feet in sympathy for your sad circumstances. You shall be the society darling once more.” He saw the smile tugging at her lips and knew she was going to enjoy every moment of it. He looked at Draco and his heart ached. “I understand if you can not forgive me, Draco. I wouldn’t blame you for hating me but understand that this was never how I wanted things to go. I love you, son. You are a good man and I am very proud of what you have become, despite me. I am always here for you when you need me and you will always be welcome in my home.” 

 

“Are you sure Granger feels the same, Father? Are you certain she is worth it?” He asked.

 

“She is worth it, Draco. And yes, I am certain of her feelings. And I am certain that she would welcome you, she lost a son and she would not wish for me to lose mine. I will give you the space you need and if you never want to see me again I will respect that.” Lucius stood and stepped around the desk. “Goodbye, Narcissa, I hope you find your happiness.” She stood and stomped from the room with her nose in the air without a word. Lucius laid his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Take care of your mother, son. I love you.” 

 

Lucius walked away without looking back. He walked out of his ancestral home and into the sunlight, smiling as he looked forward to a brighter future.


	29. Onward

****

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Onward**

**_Future. That period of time in which our affairs prosper, our friends are true and our happiness is assured. -Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary (1881-1906), repr. In Collections_ **

 

_The daily Prophet, Sunday Morning Edition_

* * *

#  DEATH EATER AND WAR HEROINE DIVORCE SCANDAL!

_On Friday morning Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Granger-Weasley were seen walking arm in arm into the Ministry of Magic’s civil court offices. Sources tell us that the couple filed the initial documents to dissolve their respective marriages._

_It was reported a few months back that Lucius Malfoy and Ronald Weasley engaged in an altercation during the Freedom Gala though no details were released as to the catalyst. Well, this reporter has learned that Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Weasley had been engaging in an illicit affair dating back to the previous year._

_Neither party had a comment for The Prophet and Ronald Weasley has asked that his privacy be respected during this difficult time. However, Narcissa Malfoy had this to say:_

_“I can not begin to express how distressing it was to learn of my husband’s infidelity. My heart is broken and I am completely devastated that he has chosen to walk away from our marriage and continue his relationship with that woman. I doubt I will ever recover.”_

_Sources say that the couple, now being referred to as simply Lumione, have left Britain for a time to avoid the media and the backlash of their perfidy. To say that no one expected this is an understatement. Who would have thought that a convicted Death Eater would fall for the muggleborn war heroine and vise versa? It just goes to show you that people aren’t always what they seem and that everyone has their dark side._

_We will be watching as this story unfolds and you can bet that this reporter will be eagerly informing the public on any and all new developments._

* * *

Lucius laid the paper on the room service cart and stared at the woman sprawled naked on her stomach in the bed. They had spent the weekend in a posh, London hotel that catered to wizarding folk. Now that the story had hit the papers they would have to move on to his Tuscan villa to escape the media. He knew it was coming but he wished to spare her as much of it as he could. 

 

It had felt so right having her sleep beside him. Though they had not done all that much sleeping. He had loved her with wild abandon until his body ached and he had no choice but to stop and rest.

 

He unfolded his body from the chair and crossed the room, shedding his robe on the way and crawling into bed beside her. She slid her hands beneath the pillow and opened her eyes, smiling at him as she stretched.

 

“Good morning.” She said, her voice husky from sleep. Lucius slid closer, his hand running up and down the length of her spine. 

 

“Good morning, Dearling.” He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled back at her. “How did you sleep?”

 

“Like the dead. You are certainly conducive to a good night’s sleep.” She rolled onto her side facing him and shifted closer so that they were pressed together, skin to skin. 

 

“I aim to please.” His hand slid over her backside and down to her thigh pulling it over his hip. “Are you hungry?”

 

“Not for food.” She purred, wiggling against him when she felt the persistent prodding of his arousal against her belly. 

 

“You need to keep your strength up, we have a busy day ahead of us.” He said softly. “We have to leave for Tuscany today.”

 

“It hit the papers today, didn’t it? Was it awful?” She winced, afraid of what was written about them.

 

“No, it wasn’t _bad_. I just want us to be away from England while things are in process. We will return when it’s finalized.” He kissed her gently and slid down just a bit until the tip of his erection nudged her plump folds. “I wish I could take you slowly, but we have an appointment this morning.”

 

He pushed into her, parting her flesh and groaning at the tight grip of her swollen channel. He figured that he had spent more time in than out of her over the weekend yet he still hadn’t had enough, not nearly enough. He didn’t give her a chance to respond as he rolled her onto her back and settled more snuggly between her thighs, his hips thrusting and sliding his cock into her. She accepted him eagerly, her hips rising and falling in perfect counterpoint to his.

 

She was the perfect lover for him, she had a sex drive that matched his and their bodies seemed to just _know_ what the other needed and provided it without hesitation. He had taken her in every way he could imagine and all he could think about was doing it again and again. 

 

Her nails raked his back and he arched, hissing at the discomfort but loving the sting at the same time. He felt her tighten around him, a warning that her orgasm was approaching fast. Oh how he loved learning all the little things about her body. He intended to spend a long, long time educating himself on Hermione Granger.

 

“Now…Lucius, I’m coming NOW!” Her back bowed and her nails dug into the tight, flexing muscles of his ass, pulling him deeper inside her as her pulsing sleeve caressed his length, drawing his own release from him in short, hot spurts.

 

“You distract me, witch.” He gasped as he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back. She chuckled and snuggled into his side, raking her teeth over his nipple.

 

“You love it and you know it.” She laughed. “Now, what’s this about an appointment?”

 

“Ah, yes, we are meeting with an architect at ten.” He said, running his hand down the center of his chest and sighing in contentment as post-coital lethargy settled over him.

 

“For what?” She asked curiously.

 

“Do you recall me telling you about a plot of land I purchased last year in Dover? Well I have decided to have a house built on it for us. We are going to see the architect and take a look at some blue prints and design our home. I want him to get started on it as soon as possible.” He said, yawning and plumping the pillow beneath his head. 

 

“A home? Our home? I can’t believe we are going to do this….I cant believe we HAVE done this. We really are starting over, aren’t we?” She laid her ear against his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat and let it calm her own racing pulse.

 

“The past is over, Hermione. The future is ours to create.” He said softly, tightening his arm around her. “Stop doubting and stop feeling guilty. Happiness is ours now, enjoy it.”

 

“I love you.” She said.

 

“And I love you.”


	30. The Dream; An Epilogue

****

**Chapter Thirty: The Dream, An Epilogue**

**_There is only one happiness in life, to love and to be loved. – George Sand_ **

 

It took three months for the courts to declare the divorces final. Hermione and Lucius spent those months in quiet bliss safe within the walls of his villa in Piombino on the Tuscan shore. They would sit on the veranda and share a bottle of wine while he read to her letters that Napoleon had written to his mistress from nearby Elba. The media continued to print stories about the ‘scandal’ for several months. Narcissa was always too happy to give them a comment but Ron kept to himself. According to Harry he eventually went to therapy and overcame his grief for Oliver and the demise of his marriage. He took a job in Romania running the auror’s precinct. He was currently engaged to a woman who worked with his brother Charlie.

 

They returned to England just before the holidays to finalize their paperwork. They ignored the gossip rags and the stares of others as they went about their business. They visited Potter for a bit and then Oliver’s grave, but no one else was ready to see them, including Draco. They moved to the Shetlands where they were married at the end of January in a private ceremony and by the end of the summer their home in Dover was ready. 

 

It was large but nothing like the historic manor that he had grown up in. It was warm and inviting with rich colors and comfortable furniture and an amazing library. It was a home to be proud of, a home where a man could _live_ without fear of touching something. He was a happy man it seemed according to the letters Draco received weekly without fail. He had yet to respond to any of them but every Friday for twelve years a letter would arrive by eagle owl. Every birthday a gift would be delivered and a deposit made to his account at Gringotts and the same every Christmas. 

 

Draco had a difficult time resigning himself to his parents split. He felt that he owed his loyalty to his mother, she was the injured party after all and if he didn’t look after her who would? Of course he needn’t have worried, it hadn’t taken long for his mother to attach herself to an obscenely wealthy wizard named Pascal and move to Paris. Every time he thought about contacting his father he couldn’t find the words. What do you say to the man you have ignored for over a decade?

 

He stood, hidden slightly behind a shelf as he watched his father standing in the center of a little shop in Diagon Alley. The old man hadn’t aged a bit, the lucky bastard, though Draco had to admit that he looked good, happy and relaxed. He was tapping his cane against the floor with one hand and with the other he was holding the hand of a young boy with sandy hair clutching a teddy bear. Draco knew from his letters that the boy was three and his name was Clayton. A little girl stood in front of him, no more than six years old she had long blonde hair and a cherub’s face, her name was Ariella. Her angelic appearance appeared to be a deception however as he listened to the interaction between his father and little sister.

 

“Ari, your mum told you that we weren’t here to shop for you today. We came to get your brothers ready for school.” Lucius said sternly. 

 

“But Daddy, I didn’t ask mummy to buy it for me, I asked you.” She batted her eyes up at him and pursed her little lips into a pout and Draco had to laugh. “I want _you_ to buy me the dolly, Daddy. It’s more special that way.” Oh she was a master manipulator that one, a Malfoy to the core, Slytherin for certain. 

 

Draco couldn’t contain his laughter when he saw his father reach into his pocket and pass a handful of coins to the little sprite that dashed off to pay for her prize. Lucius looked up at the sound of his son’s laughter. His eyes immediately went misty and Draco became choked with emotion. Had his father ever been this happy to see him?

 

“You’ve gotten soft in your old age.” Draco said, smiling softly in the direction of the little blonde purchasing her doll at the counter. 

 

“How are you, son?” Lucius had never been so happy to see anyone. 

 

“I’m good….it’s so good to see you, Father.” He found himself lurching forward as Lucius embraced him, not caring that they were in the middle of a public shop. He had missed his son terribly and was just so damned happy to see him. Draco embraced him in return, his face tucked into the older man’s shoulder as he tried not to cry. “I’m sorry.” His words were muffled. 

 

“Don’t. It’s done, over, it never happened.” Lucius said squeezing him tight before letting him go. “You look amazing.”

 

“So do you. You look happy. Apparently your second chance agrees with you.” Draco said softly.

 

“Thank the gods I am a wizard, if I were a muggle I would never be able to keep up at my age.” He looked down at Ariella who had returned with her doll and was staring up at Draco. Lucius bent down and scooped the little boy into his arms and rested his hand atop the little girl’s head. “Ari and Clay, this is Draco.”

 

Clay popped his thumb from his mouth and extended his hand. Draco eyed the slobbery digit and delicately shook the little hand holding only his fingertips.

 

“Big brother Draco?” Ariella asked, her pretty little head tilted to the side. Draco looked at his father, touched that his little siblings knew about him.

 

“Yes, Ari, this is your big brother Draco.” Lucius said, watching his daughter as she sized him up. 

 

“Do you like sweets?” She asked, stepping forward and raising her arms for Draco to pick her up. He obliged, lifting her delicate little body into his arms. It was strange to hold a child who was related to him yet a stranger. Stranger that she didn’t seem to have any qualms at all about wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling at him. “I like sweets, would you take me to Honeydukes?”

 

“Honeydukes? The new shop just opened around the corner…I suppose I could take you if Father doesn’t mind.” Draco heard himself rambling, completely mesmerized by the charming little witch.

 

“And another man falls at her feet.” Draco looked over to see Hermione join them. She was accompanied by two identical boys with white blonde hair and amber eyes, perfect little replica’s of him when he was eleven. “Hello, Draco, it is good to see you.” She said.

 

She hadn’t changed all that much from when he saw her last. She was still rather plain but there was a glow to her cheeks and something in her smile that made him see what had drawn his father to her. He noticed the slight bump beneath her shirt and looked up at his father.

 

“Another one?” Lucius smiled and reached out to pat her protruding belly affectionately. “I always wanted lots of children. I so enjoyed your childhood.” He said softly. “This is Owen and Grey, they are heading off to Hogwarts next week.” 

 

Draco looked at the twins and shifted Ariella in his arms. He extended his hand to the twins and smiled.

 

“Hello boys, I am Draco.” They took his hand, shaking it in turn. “Which is which?”

 

“I’m Greyson Harry. Mum calls me Draco Jr. though.” He smirked. “She said I act just like you.”

 

“I’m Owen Draco; we look like you….you look like Dad, does that mean we are going to look like Dad when we get old?” He asked.

 

“I don’t know…Draco Jr., eh?” Draco chuckled, amused by his little hoard of siblings. 

 

“Is all well?” Lucius asked Hermione.

 

“Now it is. Olivander’s is now set back to rights after your sons decided to have a duel after choosing their wands.” She said with a tight smile.

 

“Why are they _MY_ sons when they are naughty?” Lucius asked, frowning at the boys who didn’t look the least bit repentant. 

 

“Because they don’t get those tendencies from me. You breed Slytherins apparently.” She said.

 

“I recall you being rather Slytherin yourself despite being sorted into Godric’s house.” Draco said laughing.

 

“Shush, Draco. Don’t listen to your brother, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Hermione teased.

 

“Draco was going to take me to Honeydukes.” Ariella said, smiling at her mother. 

 

“Was he now? I see you ended up with the doll even when I told you no. Daddy?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at Lucius who looked away, feigning innocence. “Be careful of that one, Draco, she will have you bowing to her every whim like this big marshmallow over here in no time if you don’t watch it. It’s good that this one is another boy, your father can’t seem to stand up against little girls.” 

 

“I tried to tell her no.” Lucius defended.

 

“And she pulled the “But I love you best, Daddy” card on you didn’t she? And you caved, just as you always do.” Hermione laughed as Lucius’s face flushed.

 

“It is wonderful to see you so happy, Father. I have missed seeing you.” Draco said softly. “I am sorry to have missed out on so much.”

 

“Come to dinner on Sunday, Draco. We are having a send off dinner for the twins and we would love to have you.” Hermione said. Lucius put his arm around her and pulled her against his side, kissing her cheek. “I can’t promise you that it will be a calm or quiet affair. The last big celebration we had resulted in your brother’s swinging from the light fixture and Cornish pixies caught in Harry’s hair, but we would love for you to come. It will be nice to have the whole family together.”

 

“Oh please come, Draco!” Ari pleaded, turning her big blue eyes on him and pouting prettily. No wonder his father couldn’t resist her. She was going to be one dangerous witch when she grew up. 

 

“Oh, please! Dad says you were a seeker and he just bought us Firebolt 4.5’s! We can play out back!” Grey said excitedly. 

 

“We can show you the new dogs! We have a dozen but only four actually live in the house.” Owen added. Draco looked over at Clay who was sucking his thumb and clutching his bear, his head resting on their father’s shoulder.

 

“What about you, Clay, would you like for me to come to dinner?” He asked his little brother. Clay lifted his head and pulled his thumb from his mouth.

 

“Do you haf a beaw?” He asked, showing Draco his well loved bear.

 

“No…I never had a bear….but I had a blankie.” Draco said, flushing slightly.

 

“Will you bwing it?” Clay asked, excitedly.

 

“Erm….I don’t know where it is….” He had gone to bed with his blanket on the eve of his eighth birthday and when he woke it was gone. His father had told him that it vanished because he was a big boy now and didn’t need it any longer. 

 

“It’s in the attic in a black box labeled with your name. At least that was where I put it.” Lucius said, smiling. He hadn’t been able to destroy the worn and stained excuse for a blanket.

 

“Then yes, I will be at dinner on Sunday, with my blankie.” Draco said. “Thank you for inviting me, Hermione.” 

 

“You are always welcome in our home, Draco, you are family. Now, shall we venture over to Honeyduke’s for some sweets?” 

 

She took the twins by the hand and led them out of the shop, Draco following behind her still carrying Ari in his arms. Lucius cuddled Clay closer to him and with a smile on his face he followed his family out the door thinking it was impossible for a man to be any happier than he.


End file.
